


Dumb and Ditzy

by TimelessTears



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: AU, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessTears/pseuds/TimelessTears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Years of being bullied for his smarts left him dreading when people figured out he was a genius. What better way to throw them off then by acting stupid? Enter: Dumb Blond Spencer Reid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Learning how to Mimic

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Stupide et écervelé](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656032) by [Malohkeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malohkeh/pseuds/Malohkeh)



It started as a tickle in the back of his mind. A small, fuzzy thought that came to him in that state between slumber and sleep. The ones that you know are brilliant but also the ones you won't remember when you wake. Thankfully, he always kept a pen and notepad nearby for when inspiration struck. As quickly as his sluggish mind could move, he wrote down his idea in sloppy handwriting before drifting off to sleep with a satisfied smile on his face at his stroke of brilliance.

Yet when the morning light gleamed down on him the next day, he questioned said brilliance.

"Play dumb?" The young man muttered, mahogany eyes rapidly reading what he wrote the night before as a slender hand lazily ran through his bed rumpled locks.

"Well," He said to himself cautiously, unsure of what Sleepy Him had been thinking. Setting down the pad he headed toward the bathroom. "I'll have to think on this." He spoke to the empty bathroom as he turned on the shower.

And he did. He thought very hard on it. The idea had merit, he supposed. After all, nobody really pays attention to stupid people do they? They're sort of pushed to the side; ignored, made into background noise. That was his goal: to be as invisible as possible. Being quiet wasn't good enough. The general public zoned onto quiet people; assumed they were smart or cold based on looks and actions, and while he didn't see himself as cold hearted, the smart factor fit him to a T.

Which was a problem.

He didn't have concrete evidence but much of his research left him with the theory that bad experiences tended to change the way one perceived themselves. Certain features or attributes that once made someone feel special became the very thing they hated about themselves when it was ridiculed by others on multiple occasions.

Spencer Reid wasn't ashamed of being a genius but years of being bullied and slammed into lockers with enough force to crack bone left him wondering if it was worth it. It wasn't just being smart either- how he looked was also a factor, he thought sourly as he took in the image that stared back at him in the mirror. Dangerously skinny (not his fault; that was genetics), awkwardly tall (again, not his fault), eyes too big for his face that were magnified even bigger by his glasses, dark circles decorated the bottom of his lids (does anyone else see the pattern emerging here?), and though he loathed to admit it, he seemed to be. . .twitchy.

He had a lot of work to do but for the moment, breakfast called to him.

Was it worth it? He wondered as he turned on his coffee pot. To act stupid, to be the exact opposite of what he was? He already knew it would be stressful. He would be fighting against not only his habits but his natural instincts as well. Just the thought of trading knowledge for emptiness was sacrilegious to him. Wait, no, that's not right, he corrected himself as he grabbed a mug. He wouldn't be trading his intelligence, he would be acting. There was a difference. But he would also have to factor in how far and how deep he took this act. Would it only be for public appearances? What if he fell so deep into this character of stupidity that he forgot himself? Some actors had to be careful of what roles they picked simply because they could become so integrated with their character they could barely remember themselves. He didn't want that. It was too close to a personality disorder. At the same time though, who's to say he would get attached? The only acting he's ever done was giving fake smiles and 'Everything's ok at home.' to concerned neighbors. Grabbing a bagel to go with his coffee he sat down, still brooding over his dilemma.

This could be a way to start over: no bullies, no genius, no tense family situations. He could wipe the slate clean, use stupidity as a mask so he wouldn't be targeted. There were too many 'what if's' with no answers. But being naturally curious and a scientist, he couldn't just leave this could he? It would give him an up close view of how people responded to something new. He could compare and contrast how different people treat 'stupid' people. Most importantly, he could use it as a shield; nobody will try to make a deep friendship with a shallow person. He doesn't need close friends to share all his dark secrets or anything like that. All he wants is to talk to people his own age without weirding them out. This could work- people would accept the dumb person faster than the genius because they won't feel intimidated. It might be worth a try. After all, science would have never advanced if all people did was ask 'what if?' but never experimented to find out.

Even after thinking deeply on it, Spencer was still iffy on the playing dumb idea. As he sipped his morning brew he realized he wasn't quite sure how to act dumb. All his life he had been forced into the child prodigy role and he had knew nothing else. What did dumb people do? He wondered as he sat his beloved beverage down before biting into his bagel. What do dumb people like? Hate? What do they do in their spare time? Was it degrading to use the label them as 'dumb'? Probably.

All through breakfast he considered it. Finishing up the last of his bagel and coffee, he pushed back his chair and grabbed his trusty book bag as he headed towards the front door of his tiny Vegas apartment. There were still too many unknown variables; he needed to research and he knew just the place to go.

Spencer Reid went into the unknown and dangerous jungle that he had successfully avoided up until this point: the mall. There he sat at the food court and observed the actions and personalities of the walking mall-goers. A fascinating species indeed.

There were several instances where he was escorted into the security office and had to explain to the mall officers that he was not stalking or planning to kidnap anybody that caught his apparently creepy gaze. He had no idea staring someone down while writing feverishly into a notebook was a frowned upon by society.

The third time it happened he was asked to leave. Then he was asked to leave again when an officer found out him watching people enter the mall from a nearby bench.

After that, he went to the public library and used one of the computers to find films with stupid people as the main characters. There were more than he expected and he ended up choosing three that he felt would best contribute towards his research. While he was there, he also picked up several reference books that he felt would help. They were all parodies but it was better than nothing. The next phase of research required him to go to the rental store to get the movies.

He'd never bought porn before, but he figured it couldn't feel much more embarrassing than taking the movies he chose up to the counter. The girl behind the register raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she scanned them and handed them back to him. So nervous, he struggled with his wallet before wrestling out a twenty and telling her to keep the change. His shady purchase done, he headed home, popped some popcorn and watched all three films consecutively.

When he finished, he felt horrified, sick to his stomach, and his mind had gone numb from the sheer stupidity.

By Einstein, did people actually act that foolish? It was so bad he decided to call it a day and headed to bed because he wasn't sure he was up for acting dumb anymore.

Of course his mind conspired against him and made him have nightmares of all those terrible high school experiences. Waking up, he decided he'd study the matter a tad more before making his final decision. From his observations, books, and movie watching, he concluded there where three main stereotypes of stupid: The Empty Headed Jock (not going to happen- he didn't fit the physical requirements and he didn't fancy acting like the people that tormented him once upon a time), the Listless Druggie (again, no. Getting arrested for being high was not part of the plan and it never would be). The first two were out for both pride and personal feelings leaving him with. . .

The Dumb Blonde.

It was a bit of an insult to his manly pride (what little he had) that the closest fit for him was the female stereotype, but sometimes you just had to work with what you've got. Dumb Blondes were clumsy, babblers, notorious airheads and had slight builds (he decided to ignore the big breasts typical of this stereotype). He already had three of those features; all he really needed to do was learn how to act like an airhead.

It was more work than anticipated.

He felt like a teenage girl prancing in front of his mirror quoting one of the movies he forced himself to re-watch while saying in a high pitch voice,  _"I think that the film was very deep. I think it was deep in the way that it was very light. I think lightness has to come from a very deep place if it's true lightness,”_  before tripping over a random shoe.

"Oof!" He groaned as he hit the side of his bed. "This is harder than I thought!" He huffed out, surprised at how much work it took to act stupid. This new knowledge left him with the burning challenge to conquer the Dumb role. His main goal was still to blend in but now he had to prove to himself that he could do it. It was a matter of pride.

It took all summer. Thank goodness for casinos that where lax about ID's, else his rent would have never been paid and he’d be starving.

Even by the end of summer though, he didn't feel he was completely submerged in the role but he was getting close. Part of being a Dumb Blonde was being fashionable, so he spent hours poring over fashion trends in men's magazines. It almost killed him to read that sweaters and vests were out but he trudged on; a true soldier to the cause.

He changed everything about himself. From his hair to the way he held himself, to the pitch of his voice. Even his finger nails, which were usually broken from being chewed on, were now a healthy and trimmed neatly.

The babbling was probably the easiest part. All he had to do was talk about fashion and beauty tips instead of statistics.

All this time, he refused to look in his bedroom mirror unless it was to make sure a piece of clothing fit right or to make sure his hair was ok and that nothing was on his face. He never looked himself over as a whole, partly out of fear of failure and partly for the suspense factor but summer was over and today was the first day of classes. He was attending Las Vegas Uni this time. He didn't really need to go anywhere after Caltech, but he had nothing better to do, so why not get another degree? Taking a deep breath he looked in the mirror.

And stared dumbfounded; who was that stranger looking back at him?

Because last time he checked, he was a gangly, pale nerd with big glasses that covered his face and had dull brown hair slicked down. He was known for wearing comfortable clothes bought at the local thrift shop for cheap.

This stranger had luscious wavy brown hair that reached a little below his ears and framed his face nicely. The new sliver rimmed glasses he wore actually enhanced his appeal and his skin, while not tan, was a lovely peach tone that was pleasant to the eye. He wore semi-tight dark jeans that emphasized his long legs and contrasted nicely with the caramel colored boots he had purchased a week ago. A forest green shirt hugged his shoulders but loosened up near his midriff, causing the silver buckle of his belt to play peek-a-boo with the world. All this made a stunning picture with a purple scarf to add a little flare.

Reid felt his knees buckle under him, unable to tear his eyes away from the image. It was beautiful; a true work of art. He couldn't believe he had transformed this much by himself. He deserved a gold star.

Except there was one problem with this image and Reid was beginning to see why going with a female stereotype formula had a grave miscalculation in it. Especially a role that he just realized  _stood out_  for being  _pretty_. How on earth had he missed that?

He looked fashionably  _gay._  Not exactly what he was going for.

"Great," An exasperated sigh escaped his pretty lips. "Instead of being picked on for being a genius, it's going to be for being a girly boy- a gay looking girly boy. I knew something was wrong when I kept getting looks for buying all those AskMen and GQ's! God, the cashier probably thought I was drooling over the photos." He ended in a tiny, depressed voice before looking up after a moment of sulking; a fiery determination in his eyes. "So what?" He said giving a nerdy pep-talk to himself. "The laws of physics weren't formed in a day! I'll just have to make some adjustments." Looking at his wrist watch, which he put under his shirt despite how annoying and unpractical it was, he let loose another sigh. "No time now but it's only one day of class; if I change by tomorrow, the impressions shouldn't have set too far in. Gah! What happened to blending into the background?" He scolded himself as he scrambled off the floor and grabbed the strap of his bag. Before leaving he took one last look in the mirror and glared with all the power he could muster.

It wasn't much.

"Don't think this is over!" He told his image sternly, wagging his finger at it has hard as he could. "I am going to fix this—mark my words." Then the tell-tale sound of a door slamming.

It was time to start a new life- hopefully this one would be better than the last.

 

 


	2. Chapter 1: BAU, Meet the Amazing Spencer Reid

_4 Years Later_

"Dammit!" The Chief of Police yelled as he slammed his hand on his desk. "That's the 5th woman in a month! Why haven't we caught this bastard yet?" He roared in rage at the two nervous officers that had brought him the news.

"The sites are all clean sir." One of the officers said in a respectful tone. "CSI says there's no DNA evidence that they can find—"

"Tell them to check again!"

"And none of the victims seem to share a connection with each other. The only thing in common is that they're all around the same age and gender." The young man continued on bravely.

"I know the details, Officer Jones!" Chief James Marco spat out, before taking a deep breath and calming down slightly. Staring down at the pictures scattered on his desk of lifeless women he sucked in a breath, knowing what he needed to do.

"Fisher!" He barked at the silent officer, making him jump. "Go tell Clara to call Quantico and tell them we're inviting the BAU in." He ended in a dark tone, clearly hating what he had just ordered.

"But sir-" Whatever the officer was going to say was cut off by the heated glare the chief aimed at him.

"I know what I said! I hate the thought of the feds coming down here and taking over but five women are already dead and he's not stopping." Marco said seriously. "I'd rather have my pride get beatin' than know another woman became a victim because I didn't want to accept help. Now stop stalling and go tell Clara to make that call!" Officer Fisher shot off a quick, 'Yes sir!' before darting off. Sighing, Marco ran both hands over his balding head. He was getting too old to handle these horrors.

"Sir?" Jones questioned timidly.

"What?"

"It's- not that I don't agree with your decision, but what if the BAU doesn't accept?"

"Oh they will." Marco said with a sarcastic smile. "With five already in the ringer, there's no way they can't. It'd have to be pretty damn important if they did. Believe me Jones, they'll be here."

"If you say so sir." The young man replied before shifting nervously. "Erm, if- _when_ they come, what are we going to do about. . . _him_?"

"Him?" The Chief echoed with a blank look.

"The kid that works in Evidence and Archives." Jones expanded.

"You mean Reid?" Marco asked, one bushy gray eyebrow raised and received a hasty nod. "We aren't going to do anything to him. He hasn't done anything wrong that I know of."

"No." Jones agreed. "But he's- forgive me sir- an airhead and clumsy to boot."

"So?"

"I think it would be an embarrassment to the department if the BAU found out about him." He admitted before flinching as the Chief slammed his fist on the table again.

"An embarrassment? The only embarrassment I see is standing in front of me!" He yelled. "Reid may be clumsy and have his head in the clouds but he's doing his job to the best of his ability- even if he does chatter the ears off of everyone in a 2 mile radius doing it. He's part of this force and I will not have my officers put down others for any reason- especially pettiness! I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again and I will suspend you! Are we clear?" He boomed, the wrath of God in his eyes.

"Yes sir!" The abashed officer replied quickly.

"Dismissed." The Chief said tartly and watched in satisfaction as the officer hightailed it out of his office. Looking down at his desk, he frowned at the pictures but refused to put them away just yet. Instead he turned to look out at the dying sky, needing a break from the mangled bodies. Slowly his thoughts drifted back to their newest addition to the Downtown Police Department.

Spencer Reid was not a police officer. There was no way he would have passed the physical training-even if he had, he would have shot somebody or himself on accident no doubt. He did, however, have a Criminal Justice degree which allowed him to work in Evidence as well as Archives. Normally, Marco wouldn't dream of making a person do both jobs but Reid- who had been transferred from the Northeast department 6 months ago- cheerfully volunteered. The Chief had been skeptical-the moment the boy entered the office he tripped over air- but after observing Reid do his job for several days, he was convinced  the boy wouldn't knock over a row of files and be crushed or accidentally contaminate evidence.

The problem wasn't Reid's ability to do his job; it was his personality and looks. The boy was alarmingly pretty. From behind, several single officers had thought he was a new secretary and had the shock of their lives when he turned around to greet them. The ladies took to him like water and he became quick friends with the secretarial pool, often sharing fashion tips and gossip at lunch. He had a sweet disposition and was kind to everyone he talked to. While his personality helped people overlook the fact he lacked brain matter, it also left people wondering about certain aspects of his life.

His actions, the way he talked, and how he looked left many in the department wondering if he was. . .bent. Not too long ago there was a big bet circling around the department over Reid's orientation but the Chief made sure to put a stop to that before it got out of hand. Reid had never mentioned a boyfriend and the secretaries admitted they had never caught him fawning over a male celebrity or model. Finally, one officer just straight up asked him, tired of the gossip, if he was gay. This was Reid's reply:

"Gay? If you mean, like, happy, then yeah!"

The pure dumb blonde moment threw the officer off so much that by the time he recovered, Reid was gone; chatting with someone else. After that, everyone knew not to expect much in the brain department from him. Admittedly though, there were times when the Chief saw something flash in those brown eyes. Almost as if the boy wanted to say something but was holding back. It was those moments that made the Chief wonder if Reid was a stupid as everyone thought.

Then the young man would say something silly or trip over his own feet and the Chief knew it was just him being wishful.

"Sir?" A feminine voice accompanied by a soft knock shook him from his thoughts. Clara stood at the door with a neutral look on her face.

"I called Quantico and informed them of what's been happening." She explained softly. "I was told a team would be sent out as soon as tonight."

"Good. That means they'll be here by morning then." He grumped back, happy they had responded quickly but still peeved he had to ask for them at all. "Let's just hope this bastard's taking a break tonight. Doubtful, monsters like him never stop." He said more to himself than to her as he once again took in the dead eyes staring up at him from his desk.

"Perhaps not." Clara agreed. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't sir. Get some sleep. We wouldn't want you to look bad when the BAU comes." She advised in a teasing tone before leaving with a small giggle.

"Feh!" He snorted before becoming silent. Unable to look at the picture anymore, he neatly sat them in a file folder and grabbed the jacket off the back of his chair. Clara was right; just staying around here wasn't going to help. At least with some sleep, he might be little more civil tomorrow.

* * *

 

Spencer Reid both loved and hated his life. Loved it because he loved his job, the people he worked with and all the friends he made the past for four years.

He hated it because people only liked him because of how he acted. Four years ago, when he started Operation Dumb Blonde, he had resolved to fix the gay vibe he had accidentally created in the process. Reid had every intention of changing that but, for some strange reason, the girls in his classes seemed to enjoy his company. By the end of the day he had more phone numbers than he knew what to do with. Not only that, but the girls had already conned him into going shopping that very evening for 'therapeutic purposes to fight against the harsh conditions of the classroom.'

All they did was read the syllabus.

After that fateful day, Reid knew that if he did a dramatic personality or style change there would be hell to pay. On the plus side, his days at Las Vegas University were a blast; if anybody (read: jocks) tried to mess with him, they had to go through the girls first and even they weren't willing to risk being known for beating up girls- that would be a social suicide. Reid frowned as he thought over the last four years, 7 months, 26 days, 13 hours, 45 minutes, and 7 seconds of his new life. It was slightly alarming, that, even after four years of wearing this persona, he was still having problems keeping his genius inside. Then again, he mused, it's not like he kept the act up continuously. The moment he closed his door at home, he returned to his old habits of watching Star Wars marathons, doing mathematical calculations for relaxation and reading every known Scientific and Psychology magazine he found respectable. In fact, he had written several articles under the name Dr. Pierce Derns. Hey, he had the doctorates, might as well find a way to make use of them. He didn't work so hard to get them just to watch them gather dust in his closet. Still, maybe working in the police department as a day job hadn't been the smartest idea. There were so many facts and statistics that he literately had snap his jaw shut so they wouldn't flow out of his mouth. Sometimes he couldn't even do that and had to quickly change what he was going to say to something completely random like, 'I love cake!'

At least he made people laugh, right?

The hardest part was probably not being able to help with the cases, he thought glumly as he put some files back in their rightful place. Back at Caltech he had watched a seminar presented by Jason Gideon, an agent from the BAU, and he fell in love with the idea of catching criminals by getting into their heads. At the time he had been too afraid and in awe to even speak, let alone asks questions, so Mr. Gideon never even glanced his way. That was ok though. It was a tough pill to swallow, but Reid knew that he would have never made it into the BAU. For one, he was too clumsy and, another, he would have had to go through the FBI Academy which he didn't see himself passing. In fact, he could envision himself being arrested and possibly sued for several reasons; most involving him accidentally shooting someone.

"Can you believe it?" His heard someone say in an eager whisper. Sometimes this place was just like high school, he thought darkly as he jammed a file into place with more force than necessary. Officers and secretaries gossiped like teenagers.

"No joke. They're really coming." An officer replied to one of the secretaries before glancing over and meeting Reid's gaze. "Hey Reid!" Officer Fisher called out happily. "Did you hear the news yet?"

"No. Is something happening?" Reid asked in a bubbly voice that had become his default voice over the years.

"Yeah! The Chief just gave the go ahead to call in the BAU to help with those murders! The big boys are comin' to Vegas! Ain’t that right, Clara?" He called to the pretty secretary who just came back from the Chief's office.

"You really don't wait to spread the news do you, Fisher?" She said with a big grin. "But yes, they confirmed they'd be here by morning. I'm surprised at you though, I have a feeling most of our force won't enjoy knowing the BAU's about to step in." She commented as she sat back down at her desk.

"Hah!" Fisher laughed cheerfully. "I don't care. Like Chief said, if my ego has to get crushed in the process then so be it, but I am not going to be the reason more women killed. Especially over something as silly personal feelings." He ended seriously, making several officers who had been eavesdropping squirm and wipe the sneers of their faces. The secretaries all looked at each other, feeling the tension in the air and becoming nervous because of it. Reid himself didn't like it, and decided to change subjects before one of the more bull-headed officers decided to dig their own grave.

"So, um, I'm confused here." He admitted, stumbling slightly as he walked closer to put some files on a nearby desk for an officer to sign off on.

"About what?" Fisher asked, returning his attention to Reid.

"Well, what's the Beauty Association Union going to be doing here? Looking for models?" Reid asked in his best clueless voice.

Silence. A small part of him sort of enjoyed doing that to people. Damn, he was good.

"And the Chief doesn't want us to hide you." An angry voice from the doorway said. "Unbelievable." Jones spat as he shuffled inside, ignoring the glares his comments got.

"Chill out Jones," One of the veterans, Officer Watson, reprimanded from his desk. "There's no shame in getting things mixed up; many organizations have the same initialism."

"Don't make excuses for him!" The younger man snapped before giving Reid an ugly. "The BAU stands for the  _Behavioral Analysis Unit_. They help crack cases that would have otherwise gone cold. They are not here to look pretty or take pictures and they probably have more intelligent thoughts in one day than you have your whole life."

Reid doubted that. Then again, Stupid him was really, really, really, dumb and some people couldn't stand idiots. Officer Jones was one of those people. If he ever had to come clean, Reid would pay to see the look on Jones's face. Doubly so if the man ever discovered just how many diplomas Reid had. Alas, the show must go on.

"Oh! I had no idea! Thanks for explaining it to me, Jones!" Reid said sweetly before giving the man a hug. "You're such a good friend!" Was he a sadist for enjoying this?

"Get. Off. Me." Jones gritted out.

"You don't like hugs?" Reid pouted, letting go of the man and returning to work. "How sad. Everyone should love hugs." He chided as he continued shelving files.

"It's you I don't like. I've seen objects smarter than you."

"And I've seen toddlers with more manageable tempers." The Chief growled from behind, causing everyone to jump in surprise.

"C-Chief!" Jones stuttered as the older man moved past him. "I was just. . ." The man trailed off, unable to think up a plausible excuse.

"No need to explain Jones. I know exactly what you were doing. Tell me, do I need to put you on suspension while the BAU's here? If you treat your own comrades like this, I don't think I want to see you around the feds." Marco said before turning to address Reid. "Put these back in place for me. Also, tomorrow, I need you to have everything ready for the people coming in. They're very important so be respectful." He told Reid slowly, like he was talking to a small child.

"Sir!" Jones cut in aghast, though whether it was for the reprimand in front of everyone or the fact that the Chief was allowing Reid to interact with the BAU was up for debate.

"Jones," The Chief started out. "If I hear so much as a whisper of you even looking at anyone wrong these next few days, I will suspend you. Is that clear?" Seeing the officer bob his head quickly, he continued. "Good. Now take the rest of the night off. Maybe tomorrow you'll be better company."

The young officer, red from being humiliated in front of everyone, muttered a 'yes sir' before grabbing his coat and keys and walking quickly out the door.

"Wow James," Watson started out, using the Chief's first name. "I know the boy needed to be kicked down a peg but wasn't that a bit harsh?"

"No," James said sternly, looking at his old partner. "That was a warning meant for  _everyone_." He stressed. "I want the BAU to think we are professional, so you all better be on your best behavior! Understood?" He barked out.

"Yes sir!" Everyone shouted back.

"Good." He nodded. "Reid, don't forget to make sure the BAU has everything they need when they get here tomorrow." He reminded to boy one last time.

"Of course! I'll make sure all the evidence and paperwork is ready!" Reid replied cheerfully.

"All right then." James said satisfied. "I'm heading out tonight. See you all in the morning." He waved goodbye to his men before leaving for home. He really needed some sleep if he wanted to make it through these next few days.

"This should be interesting." A secretary said after a moment. "You think any of the feds will be cute?" She asked one of her co-workers as she pulled out a nail file and began working on her nails.

"Does it matter? They're not staying forever."

"Doesn't mean we can't look." The first muttered before blowing on her nails.

"I bet they're all old men!" Officer Fisher joked.

"What? Don't say that!" One of the girls said in an offended tone. "It's almost sinful to say that!"

"How?" Fisher cocked his head to side. "Isn't it more sinful to be having naughty fantasies about them like I know you're gonna do?"

"Nothing wrong with looking." Clara felt the need to add in.

"It is when you start to drool." Fisher grinned before laughing as he dodged a pen.

"See, this is the type of behavior the Chief doesn't want you to show, children." Watson chided but he had a smile on his face as he said it. "You all right there, Reid?" He asked when he saw the young man hadn't moved and had a frown on his face.

"Huh? Oh! Yes, yes, I'm fine!" Reid said quickly. "I was just thinking (they all winced at this. Whenever he said that it led to disaster) do you think I should set a room up for them? That way they can work in peace?" The boy asked nervously, twiddling his fingers.

"Y'know, that's not a bad idea." Watson said after a moment of silence. Honestly, that was probably the only sentence he had ever heard the boy say with any common sense in it. “We could probably set up one of the conference rooms for them."

"Good idea! I'll go get one ready right now!" Reid scurried off, leaving the others to stare at his retreating form.

"He's sure taken with the idea of helping the BAU out isn't he?" Watson chuckled. "And he didn't even know what that stood for 20 minutes ago."

Before Reid clocked out for the night, he had spent the remainder of his time cleaning up one of the unused conference rooms. He cleaned the white bored, made sure there were plenty of markers, checked to make sure the projector was working and that all the seats were comfortable and stable. He was actually very excited about his assignment; he never thought he'd get the chance to meet anyone from the BAU and now he'd be able to meet a whole team! It was a dream come true, or, it was until he excitement waned as he laid in his bed that night.

The BAU were experts in behavior. Would they be able to see behind his mask? He began to fret, conjuring up images of buff men picking him up and yelling, 'liar!' before tossing him out a window. They couldn't do that, right? Of course not, he assured himself. They won't be focused on him; the case will grab their attention. He wasn't anyone important.

' _Everything's going to be ok.'_ He thought, drifting off to sleep.  _'Just do as you normally would. They'll never know.'_

* * *

 

The next morning, Marco watched with Watson as a jet landed on the strip. After a moment, six people came down, each caring a bag of what he assumed to be clothes.

"Hello," A stern looking man said as the group reached them. "I'm SSA Hotchner." He introduced himself.

"Chief James Marco and this is one of my men, Officer Watson." James replied, giving the man a firm handshake.

"A pleasure. This is my team, Agent Morgan," A dark skinned man gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Agent Rossi," An older man who looked like he should be with the mafia, looked calmly into Marco's eyes; clearly a veteran of his work. "Agent Prentiss," Hotchner continued, gesturing to a pretty woman with dark hair who gave a respectful, 'hello' along with a nod. "Our media liaison, Agent Jareau," A blonde woman with blues eyes gave him a charming smile. "And finally," He heard Hotchner give an exasperated sigh, "Our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia." A woman with blonde hair streaked pink in pigtails let loose a happy squeal.

"I'm so happy! I can't wait to see the strip!" She told Agent Morgan excitedly.

"Technical analyst?" Marco questioned as they moved toward the SUVs.

"Normally she would stay behind in Quantico but she was very. . .enthusiastic about coming on this case." Hotch replied, remembering how persuasive Garcia had been yesterday when they got the call to come to Las Vegas.

"Ah." Marco said, wondering what kind of duo would come out of this bubbly Penelope Garcia meeting their own chipper Spencer Reid. Was the world ready for that? He wondered as he climbed into the driver's seat, Hotchner taking the passenger and Rossi and Prentiss taking the back. Hopefully, Watson would be alright driving the other three.

"Can you give us any more details on the murders?" Hotch asked as they turned onto the highway.

"In the last month we've found five women dead in various public places. They all died differently. The first was strangled, the second one was found with her throat slit; another was stabbed to death with a broken wine bottle, the one after was found with a bunch of pearl earrings stuffed down her throat." He shook his head sadly.

"Pearls?" Prentiss questioned from the back.

"Strange isn't? The guy just keeps getting weirder the more he kills."

"He seems to have a fixation with the throat." Rossi commented. "With the exception of the stabbing, all of them have had their life ended through their necks."

"We thought the same," Marco replied, eyes on the road. "But the latest victim was completely different. Up until now, they had all been young white women. This poor gal had her heart carved out and put in her own hand and she was Mexican."

"You're sure it was the same unsub?" Hotch asked.

"Unsub?" Marco asked.

"Unidentified Subject." Hotch clarified.

"Oh. Yes, it's him. He marks all his victims and this was definitely his handy work." The Chief growled.

"Mark?"

"Yeah. Always carves a butterfly on their foreheads." He told them and could feel their confusion.

"How bizarre." Prentiss muttered.

"That's why we called you." Marco said as they pulled into the parking lot. "Listen," He started as they began to unbuckle. "I told my men to be respectful and to do anything you ask of them. They give you any lip, tell me and I'll deal with them."

"We normally don't get that kind of offering." Rossi commented lightly.

"Look," Marco sighed in frustration. "I don't like the thought of you guys taking over but I'd feel even worse if girls kept dying because I didn't want to accept help. Just, please, if you're going to do something, clear it with me first?"

"Of course." Hotch agreed as they stepped out of the vehicle. "We're here to help, not take over." He told the Chief as they moved toward the doors.

"Thank you." Marco said, relief evident in his voice. "Watson informed me that Conference Room 2 was set up so your team can work in relative peace. All reports and evidence should be in there." He informed the man. Just then, his cell began to buzz. "Marco." He said shortly as he snapped it open and listened intently to the person on the other line. "What?!" He yelled loudly, making Garcia jump as her, JJ, and Morgan joined the others at the door. "Fine. I'll be there as soon as I can." Marco ended before turning to the team. "I have to leave. There's been a disturbance at one of the casino's that needs my attention." He said grey eyes apologetic.

"We understand." Hotch replied shortly but not harshly.

"Thank you. Like I said, Conference Room 2 should have everything you need. Watson, you're with me." Was the last thing Marco said before heading towards one of the patrol cars.

"If you have any problems finding the room, just ask one of the officers or secretaries; they'll lead you to the right place." Watson told them kindly before following the Chief. Left alone, the group looked at each other.

"Shall we?" Rossi asked, gesturing towards to door.

"Secretaries, huh?" Morgan said with a grin.

"Morgan we are not here to play." Hotch reminded him sternly.

"Hey man, what happens in Vegas. . ." Morgan trailed off with a laugh as they entered the building.

Oh yeah, they were going to need directions finding this room, they all thought as they took in their surroundings. The front part of the building was filled with cubicles on one side where officers were working on their paper work and on the other side was a counter bar that had some nicely dressed women typing away and taking phone calls. In the middle was a walkway that led all the way to the back that split up into several hallways.

. . .and there was no directory. Fun.

"Perhaps," Rossi started out. "We should ask one of the secretaries. I don't think anyone on the force would happy to direct us at the moment." He ended wisely. It was true; the moment they entered, the atmosphere seemed to have grown tense.

"I think Rossi's right." Morgan said with a grin. "I'll go ask one of those fine ladies to help us and I think I know just the one." He said, looking at a woman standing in the walkway, leaning over the counter as she talked to one of girls. Her curly brown hair went down a little past her chin and hid most of her face but Morgan saw a pert nose and pretty pink lips stretched into a smile. She had a slender build; her arms  were crossed over the counter which hid her bust, but with her frame he was guessing there wasn't much up top. That was all well and good, he thought as his gaze lingered on her fine long legs encased in some form fitting pants that showed off her perk butt. Damn, what he wouldn't give to see her in a skirt!

"Morgan . . ." Hotch started in a warning tone, seeing his comrade's look that resembled a tiger about to eat a bunny.

"Its fine, Hotch. I got this." Morgan said confidently as he swaggered up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Excuse me miss, could you direct me to- whoa!" Morgan yelled in shock as she turned around.

 _She_  was turned out to be  _he_. A really pretty he.

"Can I help you?" Reid asked with a big smile as his brown eyes glistened in the light. On the inside, he was holding back the punch of fury that had wanted to be let loose the moment the man called him 'miss.'

"You can help Morgan get his dignity back." Prentiss muttered under her breath and JJ smirked as the team walked closer.

"I'm SSA Hotchner." Hotch took over before any true damage control needed to be done. "My team and I are from the BAU. We were told a room was set up for us."

"The BAU? Yes, we have a room ready for you. Conference Room 2 is where you need to go!" Reid told the stern looking man with a boyish grin. ' _Keep it together Spencer, c'mon, they don't know you're acting, keep it together. . .'_ He repeated the mantra in his head.

"You." Penelope said as she made her way to the front of the group. "Are the most adorable thing I've seen all year." She told him bluntly, holding back the urge to hug him.

"Aw, thank you! I get that a lot." He confessed with a small blush dusting his cheeks. "Don't know why though."

"Can you lead us to the room?" Hotch cut in before Garcia could list every reason she found this kid cute.

"Sure! Follow me!" Reid said excitedly as he began walking. "I'm Spencer Reid by the way."

"Even your name is cute!" Garcia squealed as she walked in line next to him. Hotch and Rossi following close behind with JJ and Emily both dragging a mortified and shocked Morgan.

"Here we are! I, uh, hope it's up to your standards. I'm the one that set it up." Reid admitted opening the door. Hearing someone call his name, he gave them an apologetic smile. "Someone's calling me. Oh, I've been meaning to tell you; you're outfits? Amazing." He told the girls with a shy smile.

"Thank you." They all said at once. It had been a long time since anyone had commented on their style and it was nice to know someone noticed.

"Hey! If you crack this case early, we can talk fashion! I've got a bunch of neat tricks I've read in magazines. Um, I'm not very good with manly things." He told the guys sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "If you need anything, just let me know, ok? See you later!" Then with a cheery wave, he dashed off and ended up smacking face first into a wall. "I'm ok!" He assured them, seeing their concerned looks. "This happens all the time! It's only bad if blood comes out of my head!" Before they could answer, he vanished around the corner.

Garcia opened her mouth.

"Hotch, can we-"

"No." He cut her off, already knowing what she was going to say.

"But he's-"

"Garcia. I don't care how cute he is, we are not taking him back with us after this case is over. He's not a toy."

"But he's too adorable to leave behind!" She protested.

"Yeah." Emily agreed. "Even Morgan thinks he's cute. Why else would he try to hit on him?" She ended with a grin and JJ had to stop herself from laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Morgan griped, still in shock that he had been checking out another guy. "It was an accident."

"Keep telling yourself that." JJ said as she stepped inside the dark room and flipped on the switch. As light and the others filled the room, they looked on in surprise.

Honestly, the room was nothing special but never before had they seen a handmade banner with the words, 'Welcome BAU!' in bright pink and glitter, hung over the white board. In the corner, there was a table with coffee and an array of sweets ranging from cookies to cakes. On the table in the middle were several packages that had 'EVIDENCE' stamped on them and several manila folders neatly stacked next to them.

"Somebody went through a lot of work for us." Morgan whistled in appreciation.

"Didn't you hear, my Chocolate God?" Garcia asked. "My sweet boy out there said he fixed this room up for us. I want that banner. We  _can't_  not take that home with us." She said, looking at Hotch who just shrugged. If she could fit it in her bag then he didn't care.

"Well this is different." Rossi, who was secretly a cookie monster, said as he held up a cookie. "I wonder if I should trust this." He pondered, stroking his beard.

"Why?" Prentiss asked as she fixed herself some coffee.

"Because Mr. Reid left this note next to the cookies." He said handing to her. Sipping her coffee, she choked slightly as she read the words.

"Alright there, Prentiss?" Morgan asked in concern.

"Yeah." She wheezed before beginning to laugh. "Read this." He did and before he could stop himself, an amused snort escaped him as he handed it on to the next person. Similar reactions happened before it ended up in Hotch's hands.

Dark eyes scanned the words.

_I promise the cookies aren't poisoned! Hope you have fun! :)_

"Should we be worried?" Rossi asked, even though he had already bitten into his cookie. It was delicious.

"Why should we be worried? He's already shocked Morgan, became Garcia's next stuffed animal, Emily and JJ's fashion consultant and your source for cookies." Hotch said seriously and they only knew he was joking because he let loose a tiny smile before slipping back into his frown.

"Let's get started."


	3. Chapter 2: The Meaning of Life is Found in the Map

Two days. They had been here two days and had nothing to show for it.

"Let's go over what we know." Hotch said, signaling to JJ who was by the board that held pictures of the victims. Nodding in acknowledgement, she began speaking words that they all knew by heart.

"The first victim was 18 year old Lia Hope," The blonde liaison began as she pointed to the picture of a pale girl with light brown hair. "She was found in a small stream at a local park. It was concluded she had been strangled to death. Unfortunately, the unsub was smart enough to wear gloves while doing it."

"Poor baby." Garcia muttered sadly, averting her eyes from purple handprints on the girl's neck.

"Wild flowers were also found sprinkled over her- particularly near her right hand. The coroner also concluded that the butterfly in her forehead was made post-mortem. He also estimated she was killed about eight hours before she was found. As you all know, some local joggers found her around 9 in the morning."

"So death was around 1AM?" Morgan asked seriously as he did the math in his head.

"Yes." JJ confirmed before moving onto the second victim. "Ana Osmil, 21. She was found sitting on a bus stop bench at 4AM. Coroner put her death at 12AM and, once again, found that the unsub carved the marking after she died." Throughout her speech, she avoided looking at the photo.

It was by far the bloodiest murder of the batch. The woman was perched up with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her straight dark brown hung loosely behind her back with a few strands draping over her shoulders. The killer had paid special attention to her face and not in a good way. He had given her a Glasgow grin that went up to her cheekbones and had shaved off her eyebrows but had done a shoddy job of it, leaving behind small cuts and tuffs of her eyebrows in his wake. There was a deep cut on her jugular, leaving a waterfall of blood down her dress. Like Lia Hope, a butterfly was carved into her forehead.

"Thankfully, he didn't force her to endure the torture; the slit to the throat was the first thing he did." JJ concluded.

"He's getting more creative." Rossi commented.

"More creative or more angry?" Prentiss questioned out loud.

"But he didn't torture her." Morgan joined in. "He did all this after he killed her. If he was angry, he would have made her suffer."

"You can discuss this later." Hotch cut in, before the conversation veered off. "Go on JJ."

"Mia Bard, 30, was found in front of a bar called  _Barmaid_ on the corner of Folies and Bergere street. Green shards of glass that CSI confirmed were from a wine bottle were found imbedded in her skin, specifically in her arms, but she died from a blow to the back of her head." A pretty woman with caramel hair stared lifelessly with brown eyes from her sprawled position on the side walk. A corsage of flowers was pinned to the center of her chest.

"The fourth woman," JJ continued before anyone could interrupt. "Was Pearl Revmere. She was found leaning against a dumpster in an alleyway with a cluster of pearl earrings stuffed down her throat. She was 20 and- like the first victim- was choked to death."

"See, that's so weird." Emily cut in. "He takes all this time to stuff pearls down her throat but only after she's dead. Why even bother?"

"It's not about torture for him." Hotch said. "It's about the finished product. Everything he does is for a purpose. Everything has meaning to him. "

"Sari Dowft, was 36 and of Mexican decent. She was found on a bench in the same park as Lia Hope. Her heart was in her left hand and some scissors in her right but like the second victim, her throat was slashed. She was dressed in a traditional Mexican dress that her family confirmed she was not wearing when she left to get groceries. In fact, it didn't even belong to her at all."

"She's not the only one found with things that didn't belong to her was she?" Rossi questioned as he flipped through the papers. "Those wild flowers found in Lia Hope's hand weren't local, the corsage and collar on Mia Bard weren't hers. Pearl Revmere had a strange cloth piece covering her hair, along with the one pearl earring found attached to her ear. The dress and the scissors on Sari Doftt. The only who didn't have anything on them was Ana Osmil."

"What's the significance of the butterfly?" Morgan asked out of the blue. "It has to mean something; he wouldn't mark them for no reason."

"Maybe it's his way of claiming them?" Prentiss wondered. "There's no sign of rape, right?"

"Correct. The coroner said there were no signs of sexual assault." JJ confirmed.

"Garcia, are you sure there's no connection between the victims?" Hotch asked the quirky tech. analyst who was typing ferociously into her laptop.

"Sir, I've looked under every nook and cranny but there is nothing that connects them. One was still in high school, two went to different colleges, one's married, three have boyfriends, and one's single. I'm telling you there's nothing. No groups, no clubs, they don't shop in the same places-they don't even live in the same area!" She told him.

"They may not live in the same area but the dump sites are all within a 5 mile radius of each other." Rossi pointed out.

"The unsub could live or work in that area." JJ chimed in.

"Or it could just be an important place to him." Morgan felt the need to add. This case wasn't making any sense at all. If it wasn't for the butterfly mark, he doubted anyone would know it was the same person.

"Something wrong, Morgan?" Emily asked seeing frustration cross his handsome face.

"It bugs me that he doesn't stay with the same method of killing. Sure he's stayed around the throat area for the most part, but why does he change it up?" He asked.

"He may still be learning how he likes to kill best." Rossi told the younger man. "There's evidence here that he's just starting to get the hang of this despite how gory and well propped the bodies are. If you look closely, the slash to Ana Osmil's throat is jagged and unclean; that means he was unsure of himself. On Sari Dowft the slash is clean and smooth- no hesitation. He's getting comfortable with himself. "

"So you think he just started killing?" Hotch asked.

"I don't think you'll find any dead or tortured animals nearby." Rossi shrugged. "Like you said, he's not about the torture; in fact, I'm beginning to wonder if it's even about the kill."

"Why do you say that?" Morgan asked.

"Call it a hunch, but I'd bet my money that he doesn't even care about the women he's slaughtered. He needs a body and I think they were just unlucky to cross his path." He theorized.

"But he's marked them," Prentiss pointed out. "That's usually a sign of possession."

"Usually, being the key word." Rossi countered.

The group talked for over an hour on what the unsub's motives might be. They debated with each other over certain aspects: if he was mentally unstable, married, had a job. Some used older cases to back up their claims while others used basic profile rules they all knew. Hotch had Garcia look up everything she could find on the victims (again) and also the area they were found. While the arguing profilers brought up good points, it didn't take much to realize they weren't getting anywhere.

"Ok, Morgan, JJ, I want you to go to the families of the first two victims. Prentiss, Rossi, go speak to the last three. When you're finished, I want you to head back to the crime scenes; see if CSI missed anything. I'll go interview the coroner that handled the bodies and see if the police who were called to the scenes noticed anything out of the ordinary. Garcia, stay here and work out a geographical profile using the dump sites." He ended, already shrugging his jacket on.

"Ah, but sir, the programs that I use aren't always accurate." Garcia protested.

"I know but none of us are able to do the math in our heads and it will take too long to do by hand, so we'll have to trust technology." Hotch told her, ignoring the looks the others shot each other. They very rarely relied on geographical profiling because of the math involved and while programs such as CrimeStat and Rigel could perform the task, the results weren't always correct.

"I love cake! Oh yes, I love cake! I-Oh! Sorry! I thought this was the bathroom." A ditzy voice from the doorway said and they all turned to see Reid there with a blush on his face.

"My sugar man!" Garcia squealed in joy from her seat, about to get up until she saw Hotch glare at her.  _Work._  He silently commanded and she did so with a defeated slump of her head.

"Were you singing just now?" JJ asked with a smile, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah! I was singing the Cake Song!" He said, nodding his head swiftly. "I have other songs I like to sing too: the Coffee Song, Muffin Song, Fashion Song, Sunshine Song. . ." He rattled off with his fingers.

"You're a very happy person, aren't you?" Rossi asked in such a tone that the others knew what he was really saying.

_You're a very dense person, aren't you?_

"Nothing wrong with being happy!" Reid replied back, even though he understood Rossi's tone. Secretly, he was cursing himself for not paying attention because he really was heading toward the bathroom. These last two days he had done his best to avoid the team and had been doing an excellent job until now.

"I like to look on the bright side of life." He told Rossi before giving the man a serious look that just didn't look right on his face. "In fact, I'm such a light person it makes me  _deep_." He finished solemnly.

"Oh yes," Rossi agreed as he stepped out the door. "You're as deep as any rain puddle I've ever seen." He quipped over his shoulder, getting a deep laugh from Morgan and three frowns from Emily, JJ, and Hotch as they walked out of the room.

"Don't listen to that mean, grumpy, old man." Garcia tried to console him despite the fact that it looked like the insult flew over his head. "You're perfect sweet pea."

"Eh? He wasn't complementing me?" He asked with a bewildered look that made his eyes go big. Gah, just when she thought he couldn't get more adorable!

"Um . . ." She trailed off not sure what to say.

"What was I doing back here anyway?" Reid asked as he tapped his chin, unknowingly giving her a chance to change subjects.

"The bathroom! You came into the wrong room but you needed the bathroom!" Garcia replied urgently.

"You're right! I do need to go to the bathroom. I forgot all about it. How silly!" He gasped in shock before doing an about face and leaving the room.

"I love coffee! It's the best! Yes, yes, coffee lover, right here!" She heard him sing off key as he wandered down the hall.

"I must get a picture of him before we leave." She muttered to herself. "That is your mission Garcia: to snap a picture of the most adorable man on earth. Oh, what I could do in Photoshop with that." She cackled as she began typing coordinates into one of the programs that would make up the geographic profile. Pressing enter, she tapped her finely manicured fingernails against the desk in anticipation.

"C'mon baby, don't let me down. You could help solve this case." She encouraged the machine and gave a mighty cheer when it finished.

"Yahtzee!" She gave her mighty war cry as she let down on of the maps and began setting up pins and tying on string that would give her the center location.

"And the winner is. . ." She did a drum roll as she read off the name. "Nevada State University! Nice try He-Man-Woman-Hater, but I, the Tech Goddess, am onto you!" Quickly grabbing her phone, she speed dialed the one person who needed the information first.

" _Hotchner."_ He picked up after the first ring.

"Hotch, it's Garcia, and baby, you'll love what I got for ya'." She told him excitedly.

" _Don't call me baby. What did you find?"_ He asked getting straight to business, making her pout; why couldn't he play along with her just once?

"I'm done with the g-profile. Our unsub is at Nevada State University. Am I good or what?" She asked him smugly.

" _Good work. I'll inform the others and send someone over to take a look around. Go ahead and take a break."_ He told her and held the phone away from his ear at her high-pitched yell of joy. Damn, it was just a lunch break; he wasn't that much of a slave driver was he?

"What the devil was that?" The coroner asked, looking up from one of victims he had pulled out for Hotch.

"Just a happy subordinate." Hotch replied, snapping his phone shut.

* * *

 

"Hey! He hung up on me! Rude." Garcia said aloud with a small frown. "Oh well, maybe some of the secretaries can show me a good place to eat. Preferably a Chip N Dale themed restaurant." She gave a perverted giggle as she grabbed her purse and headed towards the front.

If only she had forgotten something and had to come back; she would have seen a miracle.

"Hey Miss Garcia, did you guys need anymore-" Reid cut himself off when he realized no one was in the room.

"Curious." He muttered to himself before looking at the clock on the wall. "Ah. It's lunch time; that explains it." He turned to leave, when the map that hung down from the wall caught his eye. Unable to help himself, he stepped closer to study it.

"This is, this is a geographic profile!" He gasped out in a delighted voice. Never, did he think he would get a chance to see one in person and so close! He had, of course, read all about them and even did a few for fun in his spare time (go ahead, laugh it up!). In fact, he figured if he had ever joined the BAU in some miraculous way, this would be one of his specialties. The math had to be precise on these profiles and he was pretty good with numbers.

Alas, he had to go before someone came in and caught him. He didn't want to explain what he had been doing so close to the map. But as he gave it one last look, his eyes caught something that made him frown.

"That's not right." He said out loud to himself, leaning in closer to the map while he did the mental math.

"That's definitely not right." He reiterated once more as he did the math again. "This is off by at least 3 miles." Knowing such a miscalculation could hurt the case but not wanting to get caught touching things he wasn't supposed to, Spencer bit his bottom lip nervously. He was stuck somewhere between a rock and a hard place and it sucked royally.

Should he fix it? It's not like anyone would know it was him. Still, maybe he should leave it; no point in making himself suspicious- after all, he was the only person who comes in here besides the team and the Chief, so he would be a suspect. But if he didn't fix it another woman might die. What if this helped find the killer? Or what if the team just moved it back into place? No, once they realize Nevada State will turn up cold, they'll look in the new location just to make sure.

He spent a whole 10 minutes fighting with himself before making up his mind. Glancing around to make sure the room didn't have any cameras, he raced to the door and shut it softly and made sure the blinds where shut before racing back to the map and correcting it.

Moving the pins and string into the right place felt exhilarating. Suddenly, his heart seemed to flare up for the first time in a long time from joy. He sucked in a surprised breath at the feeling. How long had it been since he had felt this intensely? This good? This liberated? He couldn't remember, couldn't even begin to recall. He felt like he had been brought back to life.

. . .Had he really been so dead and not even realized it?

Changing the map didn't take long but when he stepped away to look at it, that feeling in his heart only intensified. Hell, it could burst his heart into pieces and he wouldn't have cared at this moment.

Because in this moment, the map was right and he was alright.

He didn't even realize tears were trickling down his face until he heard their small pitter-patters on the tile floor.

"How stupid!" He laughed out loud, wiping his cheeks. "To get so much joy over a map; how silly."

He moved towards the door and waited a few more minutes to come down from his high. As he began to approach normal, he began to think up what sort of excuses he could use for his red eyes. Tell them he rubbed soap in them to make them clean? Cried because his favorite magazine was missing? Oh! Tell them nobody got his mustache joke ("I must-asche you a question!).

Or maybe, he thought as he peeked out the blinds and saw that the cost was clear _. Maybe I'll just stay in the back of Archives and enjoy the solitude._  Silently, he walked to his destination, blushing in embarrassment when he realized everyone was at lunch. It was a forgotten thought though, when he reached the many filing cabinets and choose to start with the one bathed in warm sunlight; a peaceful smile on his face.

It was the best idea he had in four years.

* * *

 

"Did you guys find out anything at the University?" Penelope asked as the profilers all shuffled back into the conference room. With the exception of Garcia, they had all missed lunch and were sporting grumpy attitudes due to lack of food. They could have stopped to grab a quick bite but felt it was better to regroup and see if any new information had been gathered.

"No." Hotch said shortly. "I spoke with the Dean and he said nothing out of the normal has been happening on campus. I asked if there were any numerous complaints against any students for behaving oddly but he said there hadn't been any major complaints against anybody. The coroner didn't tell me anything I didn't already know and neither did the people at CSI. Please tell me one of you managed to get something." He ended, speaking to the people who had gone to speak to the relatives of the victims.

"Sorry Hotch, no dice from our end." Morgan broke to the man. "We asked the families if either Hope or Osmil ever spoke about being watched or if their behavior changed drastically, but both families said they were acting normal."

"We checked out the crime scenes but we came up with nothing. This guy's good." JJ ended and Emily took the chance to speak up.

"We got the same response from the last three families." Prentiss admitted, feeling bad that they didn't have anything. "They gave us the same answers Morgan got and our crime scenes were clean too."

"I'm really beginning to hate this case." Morgan groaned as his stomach growled loudly.

"Nobody's perfect; this unsub's messed up somewhere, we just haven't found it yet." Hotch said as he studied the photographs of the victims.

"Yeah, but this guy's obviously detail oriented and a control freak to boot." Prentiss grumbled. "We all know those crime scenes are exactly how he wanted them to look- not a hair out of place."

"Garcia." Rossi called out, gaining everyone's attention. The older man had slipped over to the map and was studying it with great intensity.

"Yes?" She asked, adjusting her glasses.

"I thought you said the central point on the map was Nevada State." He stated, not taking his eyes off the map.

"It is." She replied, not understanding his point.

"No," He said, taking a step back and looking at all of them before gesturing to the map. "The central point on this map is the Nevada School of Fine Arts."

As a group, they all moved to investigate the map, Hotch getting there first and looking at it with serious eyes.

"Garcia." He said after a moment. "Are you sure you gave me the right place?" He asked, dark eyes boring into hers.

"Yes! Yes, I'm positive! The central point is Nevada State!" She assured him, completely bewildered by what was happening.

"Sorry mama, but I'm looking at this map and it's the art school that's the center." Morgan told her with JJ and Emily nodding in agreement.

"What? Move, let me see." Garcia said almost desperately as she moved closer to the map.

"That's not right." She whispered after a moment.

"Garcia?" Someone questioned but in her shock she couldn't tell who.

"That's not right. I swear it was at Nevada State, I  _swear_. Look, you can even tell it was there because of the hole left by the pin." She pointed out and lo and behold, it was true. Sitting right in the middle of the words Nevada State University was a black hole that could only be created by a push pin.

"That means somebody changed this." Hotch declared after a moment of silence took the group. "Garcia, did you see anyone come in here?" He asked.

"No, I left for lunch after I called you." She informed him. At the word lunch, several stomachs growled in sync.

"Please don't talk about food right now, Baby Girl." Morgan begged her.

"Do you think one of the cops changed it to mess with us?" Prentiss asked to distract herself from the hunger she felt. "I mean, they're clearly not happy about us being here. They’ve been civil but you'd be stupid not to feel the tension every time they're near us."

"That could certainly be it or," Rossi made the others see another option. "They wanted to help us."

"But the map was right!" Garcia argued.

"Was it?" Rossi asked. "You said so yourself that the programs used for this type of profiling aren't 100% accurate. If there's somebody here with excellent math skills. . ." He trailed off.

"They'd fix it because they'd know the coordinates were wrong." JJ finished for him.

"I don't know guys. I'd put my money on someone messing with us. C'mon, how many people have the math skills high enough to do this in- how long where you gone Garcia?" Morgan asked.

"At most? Half an hour."

"Thirty minutes then. I'm not saying someone  _couldn't_ do it, but in less than thirty minutes? They'd have to be pretty damn sharp."

"In any case, this gives us a new site and it won't hurt to check it out." Hotch cut in. "I don't like the fact that our tools are being messed with but Rossi may be right; this may be an attempt to help us."

"What? Hotch, please don't tell me you believe that." Morgan said in disbelief. "Am I the only who thinks this could be a prank?" He asked the group.

A few where about to respond when a wonderful scent wafted through the room making most of the mouths in it water. It surrounded them, caressed their senses with its delightful aroma.

"Mmm, something smells good." Emily moaned, wishing that who whoever brought that food would miraculously come in and share with them.

God was on her side that day.

"Knock, knock!" A perky voice at the door chimed and Garcia's eyes lit up with glee as her favorite boy in Vegas poked his head in and gave them a shy grin.

"I, uh, brought food." He explained holding up a big brown bag that had almost all of them drooling from the smell. "I hope you don't mind; I wasn't sure what you guys liked but the rumor is you haven't eaten all day and I promised I'd help you guys in any way possible. I hope you like burgers . . .?" He trailed off, keeping his confident grin even though he was wondering if he overdid it and was nervous as hell on the inside. "I can always give them to someone else." He said when all they did was stare at him.

Little did he know, that at the moment, they thought he was a  _god_.

"NO!" Morgan, JJ, and Emily (the most hungry of the group) bellowed, making him startle and almost spill the drink tray in his other hand.

"Put the food on the table, NOW." Morgan said like he was talking to a deranged unsub and Reid was worried he might actually take his gun out.

"Ok, ok! No need to get bossy! I brought it for you guys after all." Reid said right before he tripped. He would have fallen, drinks and all, but Emily and JJ- who somehow teleported next to him- steadied him before any true travesties happened.

"Now is not the time to be clumsy!" Emily scolded him lightly as her hands grabbed the bag and JJ took the drinks and set them on the table. In a flash they were all digging in like starved animals.

"This is the best burger I've had in years." Morgan sighed contently. "Where'd you get this, kid?"

"Just a local burger joint." Reid replied as his gaze crept over to the map. They hadn't changed it, he noted.

Rossi frowned around his burger. There was something in the boy's eyes that seemed off. In the past two days had he ever seen Reid look so serious? No, he always had a smile pasted on his face. Following Reid's gaze, he saw the kid was looking at the map. Did he know who changed it, Ross wondered. It was highly doubtful Reid did it-he wasn't even sure the boy could do math- but it might be interesting to call him out; just to see the reaction.

"See something interesting?" He asked casually after swallowing a bite of beef.

"Huh? I'm sorry, what?" Reid asked, snapping out of his daze and flushing at the curious gazes directed his way. Aw, crud. They're onto him! Why did he have to look at the map?

"The map; you seem infatuated with it." Rossi explained.

"Oh." Was all Reid said before he began laughing. "Sorry, it's just, I had no idea this room even had a map!" He told them gleefully.

"Really now?" Rossi asked suspiciously.

"Yup." Spencer said, his smile frozen on his face.  _Damn._ He thought.  _He's not buying it. Time to bring out the big guns._ "So, is the earth really that flat?" He asked, completely serious, causing Morgan to choke.

"Did you just say what I think you just said?" He asked after he was done coughing.

"For real, I don't know the answer and I get confused when they have flat maps but then say the earth is round. Silly scientist, you can't make round things flat!" He giggled as he mentally mourned and died a little on the inside for all the physical laws of science he just blatantly ignored.

"Man, how did you make it out of high school?" Morgan asked straight up. Thankfully, Reid didn't have to answer because Garcia came to his rescue; smacking Morgan on the arm and hissing at him to be nice.

"Oh!" Reid said loudly, as if he just remembered something. “ I didn't know what kind of drinks everyone liked so I had to guess." He told them, making everyone look at the said drinks somewhat distrustfully.

"I'm not sure I trust you with these kinds of decisions." Morgan spoke up again, poking one of the drinks like he was expecting it to explode. Reid ignored him and began handing out drinks at he opened the lids to see their contents.

"All right, let see here; pink lemonade for Miss Garcia because she's sweet with her own twist on things." He said handing her the drink.

"Oh, you know me so well and we haven't even known each other a full 72 hours." She flirted before taking a sip.

"Thanks! Next up is water for Mrs. JJ because she cool and refreshing." He handed her the cup and she thanked him, secretly impressed that he pegged it right. Ever since she had done sports in high school, the athlete in her always made her shield away from sugary drinks.

"PowerAde for Miss Emily because she always needs to be ready for action!" He told her with a cheesy wink and she couldn't help but laugh as she accepted the drink. She was an action girl- not afraid to tackle a man two times her size if that's what it took.

"Dr. Pepper for Mr. Morgan because he full of flavor!" Reid crowed, obviously very happy about coming up with that.

"Thanks kid." Morgan said with a small smile of his own. This kid was dumb as rocks but he had a good heart, and that's what really mattered in the end.

"Um, I picked sweet tea for Mr. Rossi because even though it's an old drink it's still good." Reid stuttered.

"Thanks. I'll try and ignore the 'old' part in that speech." Rossi said dryly as he took a sip.

"And finally, coke- a -cola for Mr. Hotch because he's sweet but a little bitter. Also, he's the leader of the pack." Reid finished proudly.

"How do you know I'm sweet?" Hotch asked with grave expression on his face. Reid couldn't tell if he was angry, but his vivid imagination had Hotch crushing the soda cup before turning into the Hulk and crushing him.

"Don't be silly Mr. Hotch!" He replied in a sunny voice, hiding his terror remarkably well. "Your team wouldn't follow you if you weren't secretly sweet!" Reid explained and someone from above must have found him amusing enough to spare, because the team took over from there.

"Yeah Hotch, we like you because we know you're a softie on the inside." Morgan teased.

"I wonder if you'll be thinking that when you’re on desk duty for the next two months." Hotch said casually, trying to fight back the smile that wanted to appear on his face.

"Oooohhhhh." All the girls said together.

"Morgan's in trouble." Emily began to sing and got a high-five from JJ.

"Am not. He didn't actually say he would do it. You know I think you're a great boss, right Hotch? And one of the best men in the field. You could beat Chuck Norris up any day." Morgan backtracked.

"Suck up." JJ giggled and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Alright children, I think that's enough." Rossi chided them good-naturedly. "Don't make Hotch have to show his sweet side; the world is not ready for that." He ended in a dark tone.

In the background, forgotten, Reid smiled at their banter. He felt a stab of jealously too. These people where clearly comfortable around each other and weren't afraid to be themselves. Even more interesting, was that they seemed to accept each other’s faults without question. Everyone in the group had a sense of belonging that couldn't be erased or overlooked.

Why couldn't he have found something like that?

Feeling uncomfortable, he began to make it silently to the door and leave them in peace. He was about to slip out unnoticed and would have made it if Morgan- who was nearest to the door- hadn't caught his wrist.

"Hold up, Pretty Boy." Morgan said in a serious tone. "What's this?" He asked as he pulled up the sleeve of the shirt that was hiding a handshape bruise. Morgan wouldn't have even caught it if he hadn't glanced in Reid's direction just in time to see the cuff of the sleeve move up enough for him to catch a glimpse.

It was amazing how quickly the happy mood changed to one of concern and anger.

"Mr. Morgan!" Reid said in a scandalized voice. "Are you coming on to me?"

"What? No! Where'd you get that crazy idea?" Morgan yelled, momentarily caught off guard.

"You did just call him Pretty Boy." Rossi pointed out smugly.

"Because he is, but that doesn't mean I'm-" He cut himself off when he realized he was just digging his grave deeper.

"Like, I'm flattered and all, but you're just not my type Mr. Morgan." Reid told him apologetically as he wrestled his arm out of the loosened grip of the shocked profiler.

"I think this is the first time I've seen anyone turn Morgan down." Emily stage whispered to JJ.

"Reid. The bruise." Hitch broke in, more concerned about the injury than Morgan's rejection.

"This?" Reid asked staring at the bruise as if he just realized it was there. "I probably got it rough housing with some of the officers." He told them with a shrug.

"Rough housing? Please, explain this to me in a little more detail." Rossi said, asking the one thing Reid had been hoping to avoid.

"Well, sometimes they shove me in the hallways and push me into walls. I've been used to practice handcuffing! It's not really my thing but who am I to stop them from having fun?" He asked with a smile and decided to make his escape. He couldn't believe Morgan had seen his bruise. It's not like it was  _bad_  bullying- the officers had nothing on the kids in high school- and the secretaries and Chief Marco always came to his defense along with some of the nicer officers. It really wasn't that bad. "Anyway, my shift is over in about five minutes. I'll see you guys tomorrow! Bye!" He waved before rushing out the door, wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep.

"I don't like this Hotch." Morgan stated, looking mad enough to kill. "Rough play can get you bruises, but they shouldn't be shaped like _that_." He growled, feeling protective of the kid, not because he had feelings for him, but because he looked so damn delicate and sweet. There was no way he could see Reid enjoying rough housing of any sort.

"Why would anyone want to bully my baby? He's so lovable." Garcia sniffed with tears in her eyes as she called it out for what it really was.

"He doesn't really give off a manly vibe." Rossi pointed out. "Aggressive alpha males don't like that and do their best to destroy it."

"Well not while I'm around!" Garcia announced. "If I see anyone look at him wrong tomorrow, their face will be meeting my purse and a ruined credit score." She vowed.

"Garcia, I will not have you arrested for assaulting an officer. I'll speak to Chief Marco about it first thing in the morning. Also before we check out the art school, let's give the officers the profile we have so far." Hotch intervened.

"We don't have that much though." Prentiss pointed out.

"I know, but what we do have they'll see as helpful. It's more than what they started out with. Let's call it a night and head back to the hotel." As the group of profilers began filing out the door, Rossi pulled on Hotch's sleeve to hold him back, leaving them alone.

"Hotch about Reid. . ." Rossi started out.

"I already told Garcia I would speak with Chief Marco tomorrow." Hotch assured the man, thinking he was worried about what they had just discovered.

"It's not about that." Rossi told him. "Do you think there's something more to him? Like maybe he's hiding something?"

"Like what? The fact that he's a genius?" Hotch muttered sarcastically. "C'mon Dave, he thinks the earth's flat."

"And yet, he was able to profile us well enough to get down our favorite drinks." Rossi ended, walking out of the room leaving a contemplative Hotch to mull over his statement.


	4. Chapter 3: Blurt Out Your Brilliance

"Chief Marco, may I have a moment of your time?" Hotch asked, standing in the doorway of the man's office at first light just as he promised the night before.

"Of course, come in and take a seat. Is this about the case?" Marco asked, frowning when the dark haired man closed the door and sat down with a look that told the Chief he should be prepared for something unpleasant.

"No. My team will actually be telling your men what we know today, so I need you to let them know to be in the conference room around 10."

"Consider it done." Marco agreed, still wary as to why Hotchner seemed so tense. "Is that all?"

"No." The man admitted. "It's about Reid. . ."

"Oh Jesus." Marco groaned. "What did he do? Trip and topple onto one of your people? Spill coffee on someone? If he's talking too much, just tell him to clam up. Dear God! He didn't mess with the evidence did he?" The Chief asked in a panicked voice. "He seems pretty good about leaving it alone but sometimes I think he might draw smiley faces on some of the victims to make them 'happy'. Please tell me he didn't do something stupid like that." The proud man said in what could have been considered a begging tone.

"No." Hotch said again, secretly wondering what Reid did in the past to get this type of reaction from the Chief of Police. "Reid's done an excellent job so far."

"So what's the problem?" Marco asked, letting out a sigh of relief.

"My co-worker discovered a bruise on Reid's wrist; it was shaped like a hand. After questioning him, it was discovered that some of the officers were 'playing' with him." Hotch told the man in an ice cold voice that showed his displeasure at their discovery.

"Again? Damn it, thank you Agent Hotchner for telling me." The Chief growled as his face became a deep red from both anger and embarrassment.

"You know the culprits?" Hotch asked in a light voice but Marco could feel the disapproval underneath.

"Yes. I've warned them time again to leave that boy alone. I thought if I threatened them with suspension they'd get the message. Guess not." The burly man grumbled as he picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Clara? Yes, send Jones, Patrick, and Hasting to my office ASAP. Tell 'em they better hightail it over here or their asses are fired!" He slammed the phone down before Clara could respond.

"You're going to fire them?" Hotch questioned with a raised eyebrow at the harsh punishment. He believed the officers needed to be punished but firing them seemed a bit much.

"No, but the threat will make them sweat. They'll be suspended and they won't be back on this force until they pass an anger management class and an anti-bullying seminar. Now if that's all you have to say Agent Hotchner, I'd like to give them their dressing down without an audience." The Chief dismissed him, not even caring that Hotch was a higher rank as an FBI agent.

"Of course." Hotch complied, knowing all too well how it felt when you had to discipline one of your own. Just as he entered the hallway, he saw three officers speed walking towards the Chief's office. Slowing down his own pace, he only made it a few feet after they shut the door and couldn't hold back his smirk at the enraged roar that was muffled by the wooden door, but still heard quite clearly by all in the surrounding area. Making his way back to the conference room, he blinked at seeing both Rossi and Morgan waiting in the hallway with grave looks on their faces.

"Well?" Rossi prompted when it became clear Hotch wasn't going to answer voluntarily.

"Justice is served." Hotch told them stoically but the small twinkle in his eyes gave away his satisfaction. Morgan let loose a big grin and Rossi's mouth slowly morphed into a satisfied smirk.

"You're positive?" Rossi asked just to be on the safe side.

"Yes. I'm afraid three officers won't be able to make it to the debriefing today." Hotch told them with a shake of his head as if he pitied the loss but both profilers knew better.

"Are we getting any names?" Morgan half asked, half growled. He could still see the bruise on that thin, delicate wrist in his mind and just thinking about it made him upset all over again.

"I'm not at liberty to say." Hotch told him sternly as he began to move towards the conference room where Reid and the girls were making sure everything was set up correctly for the briefing.

"But," Hotch called over his shoulder. "I'm sure Reid wouldn't mind telling you about his 'friends'."

The response made Morgan frown while Rossi gave a small chuckle before also walking into the room. Would Reid tell him the names of his tormentors? Most children- and adults- refused to name their bullies for various reasons: embarrassment, threats, fear. . .the list could go on for ages.

 _But Reid doesn't see it as bullying._ He thought, before giving a feral grin as the epiphany came to him.  _He thinks they're just playing, so he shouldn't have a problem giving up names._

That thought in mind, he joined the others in the room to see that, with the exception of the victims pictures being on the board, everything was ready for the debriefing. Glancing around, he caught sight of Garcia and Reid by the coffee pot and made his way over to them.

"So then I wacked him upside the head with my purse!" He heard Garcia tell the thin boy proudly.

"No way!" Reid gasped, clearly enraptured by her tale. "Did you get in trouble? Not that he didn't totally deserve that." He said, giving her such a worried look that all she wanted to do was kiss it away and give him as much sugar as it took to make him happy again.

"Of course I didn't get in trouble, sweetie! I  _know_ people." She reassured him with a wink before noticing Morgan standing nearby. "Well, hello handsome. For a moment I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Now I see that I am very much alive, and heaven has been brought to me." She joked, using one of the many pick-up lines she looked up on the internet for kicks.

"If I had a star for every time you brightened my day, I'd have a galaxy in my hand." He greeted back with a charming smile. "Hey Pretty Boy." He nodded to Reid.

"Hi Mr. Morgan!" Reid replied cheerfully before taking a sip of coffee, trying to ignore the annoyance welling up within his soul over the nickname. Really now, Pretty Boy? He couldn't have come with something a little less insulting?  _Then again_ , Reid thought,  _I did make sure my image was pretty, so I guess I only have myself to blame._  Still, to call it out so bluntly, how embarrassing.

"So are you guys dating?" He giggled out in revenge for the Pretty Boy comment and felt immense satisfaction at seeing both of them turn red and stutter.

"No, we just flirt for fun, practice pick-up lines on each other; that sort of stuff." Morgan finally managed to get out with Garcia nodding in agreement.

"Sounds like fun! Let me try!" He said excitedly before closing his eyes in mock concentration. The whole team was now listening in on the conversation and were curious to see what he would come up with.

"Is he not the cutest thing since baby pandas?" Garcia whispered to Morgan as she secretly snapped pictures of Reid with her cell phone.

"Sorry mama, but my tastes go in a different direction- a completely different direction." He told her seriously.

"Then why'd you hit on him the first day?" She asked with a smirk and a wink as she made a small clicking noise with her tongue.

"Will nobody let that go?" Morgan groaned softly. "I didn't see his face! How was I supposed to know-"

"Ah-ha! Got one!" Reid yelled enthusiastically as his eyes popped back open. Looking at Garcia, he gave her a smile so sweet, she felt cavities growing on her teeth.

"I was wondering if you had an extra heart? Mine seems to have been stolen." He said with a soft blush to match his smile and Garcia would swear on all her computer gear that sparkles and roses appeared around him.

"Awwwweeee." All the girls cooed at the heart melting scene.

"Ugh." Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch muttered under their breath.

"Hey!" Garcia smacked Morgan's arm. "That was really sweet!" They began to bicker with each other as Reid poured himself another cup of coffee. Letting their voices become background noise, his eyes roamed over the room. Without even realizing it, he locked eyes with Rossi and, suddenly, he felt like he was being preyed upon like some sort of animal. There was something in the man's gaze . . . did he know something? Was he figuring out his act? Was he waiting for him to make a mistake and call him out on it?

"Pretty Boy? You in there?" Would they take him to the Chief and make him confess? He hoped not.

"Sugar plum?" They couldn't do that could they? It's not like he's withholding information. Well he is, but not for the case! So they can't get him for obstruction of justice.

"Reid? C'mon man, snap out of it."

But what if the Chief fired him in a fit of rage? No, that wouldn't be fair. He's doing his job so they can't fire him. . .

"Reid!"

Ha ha, wouldn't that be funny to explain to people? Hi, I'm Spencer Reid and I was let go from my previous job because I pretended to be stupid instead of telling people I had an IQ of 187, can read 20,000 per minute and remember everything I read. They didn't take it so well when I confessed and now I'm a hobo on the side of the road doing magic tricks for dollar bills and quarters. Did I mention I was a genius? Ha, ha. . .

"REID!"

He jumped when he heard Morgan’s yell and came out of his stressful thoughts to see both Garcia and Morgan looking at him in concern.

"You ok, sweetie? We've said your name at least three times." Garcia told him, her face twisted in worry, making him feel guilty.

"Sorry! I was just thinking about how my Coffee Song would sound if it were sung heavy metal style." He quickly fibbed. "I love coffee! It's the best! Raw! Yes, yes, coffee lover, right here! Woof! Woof!" He growled out in a deep voice.

"Heavy metal has dogs barking in it?" Garcia asked after moment.

"I think?" Reid replied with a shrug before downing his cup of coffee.

"Man, stick to singing slightly off key. Please." Morgan pleaded.

"You didn't like it?" Reid asked with the most pathetic pout Morgan had ever seen on a grown man's face. How was this kid even pulling it off? It shouldn't be possible.

"Nah, I just don't think the Metal world's ready for you."  _They will never be ready for you._  Morgan thought before deciding he should change the topic. At the speed they were going with this one, he'd have a headache by the end of the hour. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you about your friends." Morgan told the skinny boy who was pouring himself another cup of delicious brew.

"Which friends? I have tons." Reid said with a happy smile. He was no longer looking at Morgan or Garcia, but at the board across the room where JJ had put up the picture of the victims. It was strange; their poses looked so familiar. Had he seen them somewhere before? Or was he just imagining things?

"The friends you were telling me about last night. Y'know, the ones who like to rough house? Well, as it turns out, I like to play it rough myself. Think you could give me their names? I think we could have a blast." Morgan ended, sharing a devious look with Garcia who was also itching to get their names so she could ruin their credit beyond repair.

"Hmm? Oh, Officer Jones, Patrick, and Hasting." Reid told them faintly, eyes still focused on the photos.

_From back here, they almost look like . . ._

In all his time in high school, Reid had only ever struggled in two classes. One was physical education- he wasn't cut out for it and the fact that everyone else was twice his size did not help his confidence. The other class he struggled in was art. He just could not wrap his mind around how some paintings (mostly abstract pieces) were considered works of art, nor did he enjoy the open ended interpretation that most had. He liked it when a problem could only have a logical solution; it's why he was so good with math and science.

Still, he disliked being at a disadvantage so when he was at Las Vegas University, he decided to take an Art History class to broaden his knowledge and hopefully gain some understanding. On the first day, they were given a book with about 2000 pages that had art dating from prehistoric times all the way up to the current day. It gave dates, important history on the artist and the time period, as well as the media they used. The book also took the time to explain why the artist created the piece and its meaning.

Reid loved it. He finished that book in a week but since he had to keep up appearances, he forced himself to pass the class with a low C. It hurt, but it was worth it to read all that information,  to study all those paintings, and finally understand why all those pieces were so important to people. He wondered if it was strange to think of art while staring at the victims.

_The poses, the flowers, the smile, the corsage, the pearl earring, the dress and the heart. . ._

_. . .The butterfly._

Brown eyes widened as it suddenly all made sense to him. A soft gasp escaped his lips as his styrofoam cup still filled with hot coffee splattered onto the floor. Information he had read so long ago came rushing back to him, whispering soothing words of truth in his mind.

He heard Morgan and Garcia yell in concern but their calls seemed so far away. Slowly he moved to the board, his eyes never leaving it as he gently moved past a worried Emily. Soon, he stood right of front of it, still staring at the victims without so much as blinking.

"Reid?" He heard Hotch question from behind him and he knew all of the profilers had moved right behind him; wonderment and concern filling their actions.

He should stop now, something warned him. But he couldn't. That feeling; the same one that had possessed him when he changed the map was back and burning brighter than ever. It wouldn't let him hide behind his act and for once in his life he didn't want to.

"Ophelia." He breathed out in a wispy voice; barely above a whisper.

"What?" Someone asked; confused, but Reid wasn't listening. His mind was busy thinking of all the information he could recall to help convey what he was seeing.

" _Ophelia_  was a painting done by John Everett Millais from 1851-1852. It depicts the death of the character Ophelia from Shakespeare's,  _Hamlet_. To this day there's still some debate on if she fell into the river but most agree it was suicide." He blurted out as adrenalin took over his soul and he grabbed a marker and began making notes under the photo. "At the time it wasn't a very popular painting but it gradually became appreciated for its beauty. Today it's actually worth about 30 million pounds. Not only that, but Millais also made sure to include poppies in the wild flowers surrounding Ophelia. They represent-"

"Sleep and death." Rossi interrupted.

"Exactly!" Reid said excitedly as he moved onto the next girl. "Next is Leonardo Da Vinci's,  _Mona Lisa_. He started it in 1503 and finished it in 1519. It's regarded as the most famous painting in the world. Did you know that for a long time, no one knew who she was? It was only recently that historians discovered it was Lisa Gherardini, a wife of one of his friends. Another reason this painting captures the viewers' attention is the ambiguity in her expression. Sharped eyed admirers even noticed that the background on her left and right don't match up right. That's probably why the killer made sure the victim was sitting on this particular bus bench. Look behind her; there's a low rising billboard that's been ripped. See, it shows one advertisement on one side and then a different one on the other. It also explains why he gave her a smile and shaved her eyebrows; they're bother very important details in the real painting." Reid rambled and moved to the third victim before anyone could so much as breathe.

"This is actually the one most out of context but he left me with enough clues to figure out what painting he was copying." Reid lectured in such a voice; the team wondered if this was the same happy, ditzy boy they had gotten to know these past few days. "He was going after  _A Bar at the Folies-Bergère_ by Édouard Manet. It's considered his last major work. The actual painting has a young woman tending a bar in the Folies Bergère nightclub in Paris. That's why he laid the victim in front of the Barmaid tavern on the street corners bearing the same names as the nightclub. It also explains why he made sure she had on a choker and corsage- the woman in the painting has them and there are also several green wine bottles near her reach. That's why green shards were found embedded in Mia Bard; he was keeping up with the theme. Honestly, the unsub didn't spend very much time thinking this one out. He didn't give it near as much detail as the others. I wonder if he became bored with it?" Reid questioned as he wrote down the facts.

Had he bothered to look, he would have seen the slack-jawed looks of shock and disbelief worn by Morgan, Emily, JJ and Garcia. Hotch had his eyebrows knitted into a fierce expression at the turn of events and Rossi- the bastard- held a smug look that only he could attain.

"I told you so." He muttered to Hotch and was rewarded with a glare that clearly said, 'shut up before I fire you.' Chuckling, he did so but only because Reid had gone onto the fourth victim.

"Pearl Revmere had the unfortunate luck of sharing her first name with the work the killer chose for her. It's called  _The Girl with the Pearl Earring_  and it was painted by Johannes Vermeer sometime in 1665. There isn't much known about it, but it's been called the Mona Lisa of the North. The girl in the portrait is Dutch and she's wearing a traditional head piece that women wore during the time to protect their hair from the both the cold and the heat depending on the season. Vermeer painted her with one pearl earring- it was actually the focal point of the piece. It's also the reason why Pearl Revmere had them stuffed down her throat. "Reid made a slight face at that, but since he hadn't turned around once during his tirade of information no one noticed.

They were still having a problem connecting that all this intelligent information was coming out of a boy who asked the previous evening why scientist thought the earth was round.

"Sari Dowft was meant to represent Frida Kahlo's, _The_   _Two Fridas._ It was painted in 1939 and believed to represent her emotional turmoil after her divorce. She often painted to convey her emotions. In this particular piece, she painted herself and a double both garbed in traditional Mexican dresses. The Frida in white has her heart cut out and is holding scissors. The other Frida has the heart and they are connected by vein that was severed by the scissors."

"What about the butterfly?" Hotch asked, curious to see what Reid’s answer would be.

"The butterfly? That's much harder to answer. . ." Reid trailed off as he thought deeply over it.

"It's hard to pin down what a butterfly can represent to someone because it has so many meanings attached to it. Some cultures see butterflies as a symbol of life; others see them as an omen of oncoming death. In Greek, butterfly means 'soul' or 'mind'. In this case, however, I think the killer wants the butterfly to stand for rebirth. It's not a commonly known meaning but Celtics and older cultures saw the butterfly as a symbol of rebirth. It would fit; essentially, the killer is recreating the paintings. Giving them new life with his own hands." Reid ended and took a deep breath as a big grin spread across his face. He loved it when he solved interesting conundrums like this.

"While this is all very educational," A slightly sarcastic voice broke through his joy. "It does leave me with one question." Rossi ended and Reid could suddenly feel all their gazes boring into the back of his head. It was with the same sudden clarity that helped him figure out this crime that gave him the insight to realize he was screwed ten ways to Sunday.

Einstein's brain! What had he been thinking?

"How do you know all this?" Rossi asked as if he was speaking about the weather.

Reid didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to see their faces and he most certainly did not want to explain. But for some reason, he was being unusually brave today and found himself preparing to face them.

Setting down the marker, he slowly turned around to look at them. In his fearful state, he mistook their shock and worry at his pale, shaky form for anger.

"Um, I'm secretly an art buff?" He croaked out after a moment of nervous sweating.

"Oh you are?" Rossi asked with a raised eyebrow at the obvious lie.

"Yeeesssss." Reid drew the word out as he somehow managed to maneuver past all the profilers. "I know everyone from Van Gogh to Pollock! Ha ha. Gotta love them artists with all their paint and pottery and . . . paint. Oh, look at the time! I need to go get my, my . . . vacation time! Yes! I'm due for a sudden vacation. See you guys later, hope you have fun! Bye!" He replied quickly as he practically ran out of the room.

The team just looked at each other in the silence.

Then, a bang was heard from the hall followed by a muffled, "Ow! Stupid wall, why are you always in my way?"

"Did you trip again, Reid?" Rossi called out, his amusement clear to the others.

"What? No, of course not! I  _meant_  to run into this wall." Reid sniffed after a moment of groaning. The team listened, some of them wincing in sympathy as they heard a few more moans of pain as the boy continued down the hallway, meeting other inanimate objects intent on sending him to the floor.

"That kid is a walking disaster." Rossi commented.

"Forget that." Morgan said. "I want to know how he was able to spout all that out! I think he just broke this case."

"We'll worry about that later." Hotch cut in, taking over. "Garcia, use a search engine and pull up those paintings he was talking about."

"I'm already on it." She told him, typing at an almost inhuman speed. When the first picture loaded, she let out a surprised gasp.

"What is it, Garcia?" Morgan asked in alarm, already by her side.

"I think Reid was right. This painting is the spitting image of our first girl up there." She stage whispered. Curiosity getting the better of them, the group gathered around and watched as Garcia brought up pictures of the paintings to compare to the victims.

"I think it's safe to safe to say that young Reid gave us quite the break through." Rossi whistled, impressed.

"It also fits with Nevada School of Fine Arts being our central point." JJ pointed out, reminding them all about the forgotten map.

"JJ's right. After we finish debriefing the officers on what we know, we'll head down to the school and ask some questions." Hotch decided. Things were making much more sense now that they had a bigger picture to look at.

"All the information?" Emily asked him. "Even the stuff Reid just gave us?"

"Yes." He told her after a moment of thinking it over in his head.

"What? But Hotch, he's not a profiler. I mean, his theory sounds valid but. . ." Emily spoke up hesitantly. "But look at his thought process from the last two days; not exactly the brightest crayon in the box." She hated to admit that because she really did adore Reid but she wasn't about to let the case follow his ideas without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Emily, look at the resemblances in these paintings and our victims; that's not a coincidence." Rossi cut in, gaining her attention. "As for his intelligence, when you were younger, how many times did you have to go to some fancy party for your mother and pretend to enjoy it?" He asked her.

"Ugh. I swear it felt like every two days! I hated those things!" She grimaced at the bad memories. "I always had to have a smile pasted on my face and act like I was having a good time. But what's that have to do with Reid?"

"Perhaps Reid's not as stupid as everyone thinks. In fact, I'm beginning to think he's much smarter than he's willing to confirm." Rossi admitted.

Before anyone could answer, a flood of police officers came in for the debriefing. At the front was Chief Marco who quickly walked up to the team.

"Can any of you explain to me why Reid just rushed past my office asking for vacation time? He seemed quite flustered about it." James asked them, worry clear on his face. "No one was messing with him were they? I've already dealt with the main three stooges; I didn't think there were anymore."

"No." Hotch said smoothly. "He wasn't being bullied; I think he was just embarrassed when Agent Morgan told him not to sing his songs in heavy metal style." At hearing this, the tension in the Chief's body fizzled out and he let out a relieved sigh.

"Oh course." He laughed. "Sorry about that; I've told him time and again that singing isn't very professional, but I have to admit his songs grow on people- even if they are just repeating the same line with the word 'yeah' thrown in a few times. But yes, I'm afraid he'll sing them in every genre from country to opera if you let him. I'm surprised though; we've asked him to stop before and he never took offense. Exactly, how did you tell him to stop Agent Morgan?" The Chief asked, looking at him suspiciously. He looked just the type that would slam Reid into a wall just because he felt like it.

"Ah! That's not why he ran off in a tizzy!" Garcia cut in quickly, seeing how Morgan tensed at the veiled accusation. "It was my fault, sir. I thought he was so cute singing his little tune that I just had to give him a hug! I don't think he was expecting it so he was a bit shocked. Tell him I'm sorry?" She lied giving the man a small pout.

"Eh? That's all?" The Chief asked and saw all of them nod in agreement. "I see. Come to think of it, he doesn't really like to be hugged all that much. In fact, the only person I've ever seen him hug voluntary is Jones and I think that was just to annoy him." The man muttered to himself and the team exchanged quick smiles at the information.

"Where is Reid now?" JJ asked, wanting to know if he was ok.

"I went ahead and gave him the morning off. I almost gave him the whole day but that's not fair to everyone else." Marco admitted. "I thought he was being bullied again and he kept running into so many things I figured it'd be best to give him a few hours to calm down." James told them somewhat sheepishly.

"How many things did he run into?" Rossi couldn't help but ask. Never in all his life had he seen a person as clumsy as Reid.

"On his way out he ran into the glass door. Twice." The Chief deadpanned. "Enough about that, are you guys ready to give us what you found so far?" His demeanor became serious and it made them remember that they had a serial killer on their hands and they should probably focus on that before anything else.

"Yes." Hotch said before raising his voice to gain everyone's attention. "Everyone listen up. What we're about to say is extremely important so please, pay attention. The unsub is a control freak bordering onto OCD. . ." He began as the officers started scribbling down notes.

* * *

 

Reid was actually still in the office. He did leave but it was only when he reached the bus stop that he realized he took the bus and that the said bus would not be by for some time. Defeated, he walked back to the station and, as stealthily as he could, tried to sneak back to his work station. He nearly died from relief when he realized all the officers were at the meeting. The secretaries were still at work, but a quick mumble that he had to work made them leave him alone.

At the moment, he was hiding under his desk. It was a rather tight fit but he was making it work. And for the record, he was doing his work. Just, he was doing it under his desk. If anyone found him, he'll just say he's playing hide n' seek or something. They'd believe it.

Well, everyone but the BAU.

Just the thought put him in a panic all over again. What were they going to do to him? He didn't want to lose his job, but it was obvious they didn't buy his excuse. God, his life was ruined and why? Because he couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut. There were other ways to give them the info; subtle directions, anonymous notes, fake email account, but no! He had to go and show off!

His eyes became blurry and he realized that for the second time in the span of two days, he was crying.

Only this time it wasn't for joy; it was for the safety that was bound to be ripped away from him. It was for the looks on the faces of his friends when they discovered he was a fake.

He didn't want to face the world; so he hid under his desk and quietly let his tears fall. He held his breath when he heard the loud thundering of footsteps as the officers left the meeting and went to their cars. He would guess that Chief Marco had insisted on going to the school with the BAU to find the killer. Good. He didn't want to see any of them at the moment.

The moment it became quiet again, he let loose his quiet sniffles and wiped his cheeks. Surely this wasn't the end of the world, was it? Who knows, maybe they wouldn't tell Marco anything. No, of course they would; it would be remiss not to. Years and years of being bullied came to the front of his mind and as far as he was concerned, he'd be beaten within an inch of his life the moment they found out how smart he was. Kids did it in high school, why would adults be any different? Just the thought made him cringe and he didn't even realize someone was at his desk until a voice called out,

"Pretty Boy?"

He froze. What was Morgan doing here? He should be going with the others to the school! Why was he still at the station? For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Reid began to silently panic.

"C'mon Pretty Boy, I know you're here. The secretaries told me you came back here."

Unconsciously, Spencer squeezed farther into the corner of his desk, hoping Morgan would just go away. It was not to be; instead, the agent bent down and his heart broke at the sight of the tall man looking so small scrunched up in that tiny corner, eyes bright with tears and holding a fear that Morgan was used to seeing on abused children. What had this kid gone through to gain such a look?

"Oh Pretty Boy." Morgan said sadly with a small shake of his head. "What are you doing back there?"

"P-playing hide n' seek." Reid hiccupped wiping his eyes, trying his best to keep up his act.

"Really now?" Morgan asked gently even though they both knew it was a lie.

"Of course. Why else would I be under a desk? What about you? Shouldn't you be with the others catching the bad guy?"

"Nah. Hotch, Prentiss, JJ and Rossi are going with the most of the force. Marco really wants this guy put away." Morgan told Reid as he thought about the enthusiastic expression the Chief had  when Hotch informed him about the art school. "I know we'll catch this creep; we always do. Honestly, I'm more worried about something else."

"What?" Reid asked, curious.

"You." Morgan told him.

"M-Me?" Reid stuttered in surprise.

"Yeah. The way you rushed out this morning really had me worried. I wanted to make sure you were ok. At first we thought you left, but one of the secretaries informed us you took the bus to work and came back in a few minutes after you left." Morgan told him.

"The bus wasn't there so I couldn't go anywhere." Reid mumbled, blushing at his mistake.

"Why'd you want to leave? Are we that scary?" Morgan joked, getting comfortable on the floor when he realized Reid wasn't moving anytime soon.

". . .I didn't want to see you. Any of you." Reid admitted in a small nervous voice.

"Why?"

"Because! Because yo-you-" He cut himself off with a frustrated look. "I don't want to say it." He admitted after a moment.

"Why?" Morgan asked again and Reid had a feeling that the man would repeat that question until he got an answer.

"Because you'll hate me." Reid said so softly that Morgan only heard a muffled tone.

"What? I didn't catch that. Run it by me one more time." Morgan insisted, hoping Reid would answer.

He did, but it wasn't what Morgan wanted.

"I said I forgot to get you guys more cookies!" Reid gasped out and suddenly all that stillness went away and he began to move like an Energizer bunny. For some strange reason, the small part of him that fiercely wanted to keep his act alive took over and he couldn't have been more grateful. This he could do. This he knew how to handle; not awkward, emotional questions that might have him spilling his guts. "Oh fiddles! I also need the check the coffee pot. Wouldn't do you any good to have an empty-ow!" He yelped as he banged his head while trying to get out from underneath his desk.

"Easy there, kid." Morgan said gently, taking a flailing hand and helping him up.

"Ah, thanks Mr. Morgan!" Reid told him with a sunny smile before dashing out the door, leaving a bemused Morgan behind.

“What just happened?” The agent asked himself.

Walking at a much slower pace, Morgan found Reid and Garcia chatting up a storm in the conference room.

"Are you sure you're alright? Your eyes are awfully red." She questioned Reid in a worried tone as she gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Though he was still smiling, he moved away from her touch.

"I'm fine Miss Garcia!" He chirped quite exuberantly. "I just came to refill the coffee pot and maybe get you guys some more food. Oh! Do you think they'll find the killer?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"I don't know. There's a pretty good chance thanks to the information you-"

"I'll go make another banner then! Mr. Morgan said that the mean man would be caught and I believe him! What should I put on the banner? Ah! How about; Pow! Boom! Take that Bad Guy! The BAU just snagged you! Yayyy!" He ended, doing some strange wave movement with his arms. "What do you think Miss Garcia?"

"Well Sugar, it certainly has pizazz. You know I'll take it home even if Hotch and Rossi don't like it." She told him with a smile, ignoring the fact that he cut her off the moment she was about to mention his brilliant moment at the board.

"I'll start on it right away!" He exclaimed happily, running towards the door and smacking right into Morgan's chest. "Sorry Mr. Morgan, can't talk now! I have a banner to make!" Reid chirped as he moved around the stunned man.

"Well he’s certainly much happier. Was that your doing?" Garcia asked her Chocolate God with a smile.

"Actually Baby Girl, I don't think it was." He told her before filling her in on what happened.

"My poor baby." She sniffed when he got to the part about Reid hiding under his desk. "He knows he's not going to be persecuted for having a smart thought, right? We aren't living in the ancient days."

"I don't know. It was so strange; one moment he was sad and the next it was like he was hyped up on sugar."

"Maybe he's bipolar?" Garcia suggested.

"No." Morgan said seriously. "There's something strange going on with him but it's not that. He's hiding something and I'm going to find out what."


	5. Chapter 4: Perfect Personas Crumble like Cookies

"Finished!" Spencer yelled cheerfully as he barreled back into the conference room, his hair messy and tinged with flecks of glitter. In his arms he held a large piece of paper that overflowed almost to the floor with glitter clinging to the still drying glue.

"Let me help you with that, Pretty Boy." Morgan offered, as he quickly got to his feet when he saw Reid struggling in the doorway. The last thing he wanted to see at that moment was the kid do a face plant into glue and glitter.

"Ah! Thanks!" Reid told the agent with a megawatt smile that seemed just a tad strained on his face. In truth he wasn't very happy at all and just wanted the day to be over with. These people were getting too close to the truth for comfort. Hopefully he hadn't been wrong about the murderer and the others would be able to find him. The sooner the BAU finished this case, the sooner he wouldn't have to worry about being exposed.

"You sure finished this up pretty quick." Morgan commented offhandedly, sharing a quick glance with Garcia. It had only been half an hour since Reid had left to go work on this banner. In that time they had brainstormed over how to get the kid to talk more about himself. They had realized, quite suddenly, that even though Reid had talked up a storm, he never really talked about himself. Sure he sang songs about things he liked but he never mentioned what he did outside of work, what he believed or anything personal like that. Not that anyone in the BAU expected him to spill his guts to them but most people at least let something slip by accident.

"Um, well, I  _may_  have started on it when I made the welcome banner." Reid admitted, face flushed bright pink, as he grabbed a chair to stand on and began pinning the banner to the wall.

"But you didn't know if we would catch this guy." Morgan said slowly as he tacked up the other side of the banner.

"I know," Reid shrugged as he jumped down from the chair with child-like glee when he was done. "But I figured I might as well make one. I mean, Chief Marco said you guys were the best so why wouldn't you be able to catch him?" He asked rhetorically.

"Hold up there," Morgan said, somewhat concerned. "I'll be the first to admit we're good at what we do, but there are guys out there that even we can't get." As much as Morgan hated to admit that, he felt it was better than lying. He didn't want Reid thinking they were like gods or something.

"What? But you're the best! You can't  _not_  catch the bad guys!" Reid shot back in a shaky voice as he made his eyes water up (it took years to be able to do that without eye drops, but it was worth it).

"Can't you take a compliment?" Garcia hissed in Morgan's ear, pinching his arm slightly to show her annoyance. Looking over at Reid's watery eyes, she felt her heart clench. It felt like she was about to tell a child that Santa wasn't real.

"We are the best and we catch almost every bad guy out there that comes our way! Sadly, sometimes they slip away from us. But! We always do our best to find them so they never hurt anyone ever again." She told him with gusto.

"Really?" Reid sniffed, somewhat dramatically.  _By Freud's disproved theories! Are they really buying this?_ He thought, somewhat incredulously.  _I'm the one acting and even I think I'm overdoing it._

"Of course," Penelope cooed, ruffling his hair. "Right, Morgan?" She asked with him a smile that clearly said:  _Agree or I will photoshop you into several provocative poses._

"Yup." He said with a straight face, unable to decide if Reid was really naïve enough to believe that they caught every unsub on their cases.  _C'mon, he has to be pulling our legs, right?_ But looking at those big brown eyes, he began to doubt himself.  _Damn! He's either a good actor or he was dropped on his head as a child._

"So kid, what do you do around here for fun?" Morgan asked to get off the current subject and to try and pry more personal information out of Reid. He had tried to get Garcia to look him up on her computer but she refused, saying he wasn't an unsub and she could get in trouble for using the database for personal reasons. Not that it stopped her before but she would feel guilty about looking up Reid because she liked him and didn't want to invade his privacy. Of course, looking up his phone number and email address was a completely different story- she was not going to lose contact with this cutie! He was way too entertaining to let go.

"I go shopping!" He gushed. "Sometimes I go to the art shows," He admitted, deciding it wouldn't hurt to incorporate that after his earlier outburst. "But usually I'm broke from buying clothes."

"I knew those were designer jeans." Garcia purred as she looked at his long legs encased in dark blue jeans that fit him nicely.

"Yeah, I have some with awesome designs and different colors but the Chief won't let me wear those. He said it was unprofessional even though all I do is put away files and make sure evidence is sealed correctly and put in the right place." He told her with a pout, recalling the day he wore neon purple skinny jeans just to see what would happen and the real reason the Chief told him not to wear them.

As it turns out, even women will grope and pinch if they think they can get away with it. He remembered that horrible day. His butt had been quite soar afterwards he swore he saw a bruise in the mirror when he checked at home. Marco had pulled him into his office at the end of the day and gave him a lecture on looking more professional but Reid also knew the man was worried about him having a sore ass for the rest of his life.

Suffice to say, Reid hadn't worn skinny jeans since.

"Really? No casinos? No hitting the clubs?" Morgan butted in desperately, before the conversation could go into fashion. "I think you're holding out on us, Pretty Boy. C'mon, don't be shy, I bet the ladies are all over you on the dance floor."

"What? N-No!" Reid stuttered, completely shocked at the agent's bold questions. "I don't go to clubs; they're too dark and I end up bumping and falling into people." He told the man, trying to will away the flush on his face.

He had only ever gone to one night club and it had been before Operation Dumb Blonde. He had immediately disliked the loud, thumping music and the crowd of sweaty bodies that almost pulled him in on the way to the bar. As for women, well, they hadn't even looked at him back then, or if they did it was to sneer. Hell, even after his transformation he still felt unconfident in his body and he wasn't about to go to a bar just to be ridiculed by drunks. Then again, if the ladies  _here_  groped him just for wearing skinny jeans. . .

"You alright?" Morgan asked when Reid went bone pale and seemed to be on the verge of convulsing.

"I don't want to get raped." Reid muttered to himself in a haunted voice.  _Remember,_ he told himself,  _You don't wear those jeans anymore! They worked a little too well._

"Excuse me?" Garcia exclaimed, exchanging a shocked look with Morgan whose face just split into a large grin.

"I said I don't want your stupid grapes!" Reid replied, not even realizing his response made no sense, as he did an about face and tried to leave the room, intent on forgetting this whole conversation by shelving files and, later, a Star Trek and Star Wars Marathon. So lost in thought, he smacked into the doorpost and had to right himself before making a second, successful attempt.

All without uttering a sound (This is because he runs into things so often; it doesn't really bother him anymore. Ah, to be blonde is to be hazardous).

"Derek, what did we just do?" Garcia asked in a hushed tone as she worriedly wrung her hands together.

"Don't worry Baby Girl, he didn't mean it that way." Morgan assured her, his smile growing by the minute.

"How else could he have meant it?" Garcia snapped back, annoyed and shocked that Morgan found it funny.

"Garcia, think. If that kid, who you find so adorable, walked into a club full of horny, dancing people, what would happen?" He asked her.

"They'd probably try to rip his clothes off of him since he's so delicious-ah, I get it." She giggled. Before another word could be said, several voices were heard from the hallway. Looking, they saw the rest of their team coming their way as Chief Marco triumphantly shoved an angry looking man down the hallway.

"That our guy?" Morgan asked them as they entered the room.

"Mike Ralli, senior student at the Nevada School of Fine Arts. A struggling student to be more precise." Rossi informed him. "We spoke to the teachers; it turns out Mr. Ralli was dangerously close to failing along with having some very deep loans."

"That's the stressor, but why the women? Why not other students, teachers?"

"It wasn't for revenge." Emily took over. "He was majoring in Art History and Photography. For his final project, he wanted to recreate famous paintings. No models were willing to do it- apparently he had a reputation for being too forceful. He started asking women that caught his eye on the street when he went out. When they said no, he became angry and began killing them."

"Wait, so he has pictures?" Garcia asked, her tone telling them how disgusted she was over the whole thing.

"Yes." JJ confirmed sadly. "We found them hanging in his personal studio. All the seniors are given their own studios that are basically sound proof to help their concentration. After he killed the women-he said he dragged them into nearby alleyways to do it- he brought them back to his studio and began to 'work.'"

"Not only that, but he's a narcissist." Hotch took over. "He told us they deserved it for refusing to help him make the art world a better place."

"Jerk!" Garcia growled with a vicious glare. The group was quiet for a moment as they took the time to absorb the fact that the unsub was caught and the women of Las Vegas no longer had to worry about being taken. It was a wonderful feeling tinged with regret that they couldn't save the previous victims.

Suddenly, JJ burst into soft laughter as her eyes took in what was hanging on the wall.

"I see Reid's been here." She teased as she pointed at the banner, clearing up the confusion for her sudden humor.

"Pow! Boom! Take that Bad Guy! The BAU just snagged you! Yayyy!" Emily read out loud with a fond smile. "I'm going to miss him." She admitted sadly.

"It's not too late, Hotch." Garcia told him seriously. "I have a suitcase he can fit in. I'll even leave the clothes behind." She tried to convince him.

"I refuse to be an accomplice in any kidnapping conducted by you." He replied, equally serious. "Besides, I already told you no." He reminded her.

"But we can't leave him here!" She whined, completely unashamed of how childish she was acting. "I don't think I can live without seeing his sweet face." Garcia cried out dramatically, JJ and Emily nodding frantically in agreement.

"Look," Hotch said, not quite believing that he had to explain to several intelligent people, who were giving him puppy eyes, why kidnapping someone was against regulations. "Reid is. . .interesting. But that does not give you the right to take him away from his home; he's not a toy. It's his life and he can do whatever he wants with it. Now let's pack up here and head back to the hotel. We leave first thing tomorrow." He ended sternly, willing himself not care at the disappointed looks on their faces.

"But I wanted to ask him for tips about split-ends." He heard Emily mutter and nearly rolled his eyes. Heading towards the door, he stopped suddenly but didn't turn around.

"We leave tomorrow, as ordered." He repeated. "But it would be out of our hands if the plane experienced some. . .technical difficulties." He continued walking, ignoring the grins he could feel blooming on their faces.

"Hey Baby Girl," Morgan started. "How hard is it to hack into a plane's computer system? I'm asking for future references; in case we ever have an unsub with a plane fetish."

"Not hard at all." She gave a Cheshire grin, cracking her knuckles as she opened her computer. "Not very hard at all."

* * *

 

It was late in the evening when the young man walked through the entrance doors, silently thanking whatever deity up there that they were still open. Walking up to the receptionist, he began speaking to her as if he had talked to her a thousand times before.

"Hey Linda, I know it's late and visiting hours are technically over, but is it ok if I go see her?" he asked somewhat anxiously.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" She asked him, positive she had never met him before in her life. She would have definitely remembered that handsome face on a body like that. She had to stop herself from licking her lips.

"Do you know me? Linda, it's me, Spencer Reid-Oh! You're not use to seeing me like this, are you?" He sheepishly asked the shocked woman, suddenly realizing the reason for her confusion.

"Mr. Reid?" She asked incredulously, suddenly seeing the shy young man that always came dressed in sweater vests and khaki slacks with huge glasses and messy hair.

"Yeah, I just came from work." He explained, cursing the fact that, in his haste to get here, he had forgotten to go home and change.

He hoped his mom recognized him. He had showed her a picture of him looking like this once; she snorted and told him he looked strange.

He had already known that. Thanks mom.

"Are you a model?" Linda couldn't help but ask, wondering why he didn't dress like that all the time. Here she thought he was a professor of some sort.

"What? No, where did you-" He cut himself off with a tired sigh. "Please, can you tell me if my mom is still awake? And if she is, can I speak with her? It's important."

"Hmm. Let me call Dr. Norman. He would know better than me." She told him as she picked up the phone and dialed a number. Humming, she only had to wait a few seconds for the other end to pick up. "Dr. Norman? Yes, this is Linda at the front desk. Mr. Reid is here wondering if he could speak with his mother. Alright, I'll let him know. Thank you, Dr. Norman." Hanging up, she gave Spencer a friendly smile. "She's still up and today's been a good day so he says it's ok. He's actually speaking with her right now."

"Thank you!" He told her as he dashed off, already knowing where his mom would be. Skidding to a halt near an opening down the hallway, he took a deep breath. There she was, in her favorite chair, hands softly running over a beloved book. Beside her sat Dr. Norman. He was telling her something and from the way her eyes lit up, he wondered in the man was informing her of his visit.

"Knock, knock." He called out to gain their attention. As one they both looked, Dr. Norman's eyes widening at his appearance but that wasn't the reaction he cared about. It was his mom's that made him nervous. Would she recognize him? What if she thought he was an imposter? Some days she didn't even remember who he was at all and reacted violently to his presence. Those days hurt, but he knew it wasn't her fault. Schizophrenia was a fickle of a disease; it was hard to tell what reactions it could produce.

But Linda was right. Today was a good day for Diana Reid.

"Spencer," She called out, scolding him in a way only a mother could; with sternness mixed with gentleness. "Don't stand in doorways, it's rude."

"Sorry." He apologized as he walked over and sat in the chair next to her.

"That's an interesting look, Mr. Reid." Dr. Norman commented, speaking for the first time.

"Thank you." Spencer replied awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

"Well," Dr. Norman started as he stood up. "I'll leave you two in peace. Fifteen minutes though; that's all I can give you." He told them apologetically as he left the room.

"Hmph! All these rules and regulations! You'd think they were holding in the crazies." She snorted and Spencer didn't know whether to smile or frown. He chose to frown as he thought over his current predicament and how he would break it to her. A hand fell softly over his own, bringing him out of his worries. His head shot up and he met his mother's concerned eyes.

"You look conflicted. Tell me what's wrong, baby." She coaxed gently, her hand moving to stroke his hair. From the beginning he had told her of his plan to hide himself from the world while staying in plain sight. She had never approved, disliking the fact that her son felt the need to hide his gifts, but she did not stop him. He had been careful to make sure to always wear clothes she was used to seeing him in when he came to visit her but he still made sure she knew what he looked like in case he ever came in like he had tonight.

"What makes you think something's wrong? Maybe I just came to visit." He replied.

"Spencer, do not take me for a fool." She tapped him lightly on the head. "I can tell that something's wrong just by looking at you; you're all pale and you're shaking slightly. Also, a mother always knows, Spencer. Always. So stop stalling and tell me." She ended in a firm voice.

Her heart ached as she watched his face fall. What had happened to her child now? After years of being bullied, having his father leave, being so close to that awful pervert as a young child and being forced to grow up so early to take care of her, what could have possibly hurt him now? Hadn't he suffered enough?

"Oh mom," He moaned out sadly, as his face fell into his hands. "It's all started to crumble down around me."

* * *

 

"What? He really said that?" Emily gasped out laughing, sprawled on a hotel bed as Garcia filled her in on the last conversation her and Morgan had with Reid.

"Yes. Now all I can think about is a nervous Reid walking past all these drooling women." Garcia admitted with a snort as the image came to her again.

"Poor Reid. I can just imagine him getting hit on by women and not having a clue about what they want." JJ said, her blue eyes bright with laughter.

"I thought the same thing!" The tech analyst squealed.

At that moment the door opened and Hotch walked in, his phone glued to his ear as he listened to the person on the other end.

"I see. No, it won't be a problem. Thank you for informing me." He ended and snapped the phone shut. Putting it in his pocket, he looked at his expectant teammates.

"That was the pilot. Apparently something's wrong with the jet's computer. It won't start up at all. We have three days and if it's not fixed by then, they'll send us another plane." Hotch told them and turned blind eye to the sly smiles blooming on their faces and the many fist bumps Penelope was suddenly receiving.

"How sad," Garcia sniffed in a fake voice. "Well, guess we'll just stay in town then."

"Of course. Now, what are we talking about?" Hotch asked.

"Reid." They all replied together.

"They're making fun of how he would act in a club." Morgan filled Hotch in.

"I can see that being potentially dangerous." The man replied after a moment of thinking it over.

"Dangerous?" Emily piped up.

"There's quite a bit of glass in clubs. And people; lots of people." Their leader said vaguely but they connected the dots quickly enough.

"Yeah. I could see that." Morgan grinned. "That kid tripping someone and causing a domino effect. All the ambulances in Vegas would be there for the broken bones."

"Why I find this all to be very interesting, why are we having this impromptu meeting in  _my_  room?" Rossi spoke up for the first time in obvious displeasure.

"Because you have cookies, you hoarder." Emily accused as she snagged a cookie he had smuggled out of the station.

"They were free. I have done no wrong." Rossi replied calmly.

"Except share." JJ muttered as she also took a cookie. Rossi just shrugged his shoulders. As far as he was concerned it was first come first serve and the others had been too slow on the uptake.

"Enough scenarios." Hotch cut in, resuming his persona as the leader of their team. "We're all here because- as bad as this sounds- we all want to know more about Spencer Reid, yes?" At the nods, he continued. "Right. So let's treat this like we would a case and start with what we know."

"His names Spencer Reid and he works a low paying job at the police department. This could mean he's not very motivated or could do better for himself but can't." Morgan started.

"No." Emily argued. "He has to have money stashed away somewhere. The clothes he wears are not cheap. Also, he's up to date on all the trends so he cares about his appearance."

"He's very clumsy. This could be natural or he could be easily distracted." JJ added to the conversation.

"He can change from happy to sad and back in two seconds flat." Morgan said, snapping his fingers as he remembered Reid crouched under his desk crying before suddenly turning back into his usual happy self.

"So you think he's emotionally unstable?" Hotch asked.

"I think unstable too strong of a word but, yeah, I think something's wrong. What about you, Rossi? Got anything to add?" He asked the seasoned profiler.

"I don't think he's emotionally unstable, at least, not in a way that could be a threat to himself or others." Rossi drew out slowly. "I think he's unconfident in himself and his abilities and dumbs himself down for others. He was probably bullied quite viciously in school and guessing from his extreme need to hide, I'm assuming his home life was not stable."

"You think he's hiding his true abilities." Hotch stated.

"I think he's hiding everything he can about himself." Rossi responded.

"Only one way to find out." Hotch said, turning to Garcia. "Look him up and see what you can find."

"What?" She exclaimed, shocked at his words. "But sir, I was told to only use our network for cases. I could get into a lot of trouble-"

"I'm ordering you to do it." He said firmly, stifling her protests. "As of now, I'm considering Spencer Reid a person of interest."

"Oh? For what reason?" Rossi asked, impressed at the loophole Hotch just made.

"Officially? He might be good in our mail room. Unofficially, because I fear I may have to arrest some of you on stalking and possibly kidnapping charges."

"Whatcha got, Baby Girl?" Morgan asked as smiles were exchanged around the room.

"Y'know honey, I realize I make this look easy but it takes more than 2 seconds to find a person and dig into every nook and cranny of their life. Do you know how many Spencer Reids live in Las Vegas, let alone Nevada?" She asked, never taking her eyes off the screen.

"Sorry. You can narrow it down, right?"

"Of course. Like I said though, it's going to take time and you talking to me is distracting. Go eat a cookie." She told him.

"Ouch, mama. Ouch." He said, her blunt dismissal blindsiding him.

"That's the second time Morgan's been rejected." Emily told JJ, not even bothering to lower her voice and giving Morgan a sweet smile when he gave her a look.

"Must be karma." JJ teased him.

"If anyone deserves karma, it's you guys for teasing me so much these past few days." He mock-growled as he snatched a cookie.

"While I'm happy I was able to provide you with food, I must caution you; I will be very displeased if I am left with crumbs." Rossi warned them in a silky voice dipped in danger. He happened to like those cookies very much. He wondered if he could find out were Reid got them. Perhaps he could get the recipe.

"Sorry." The three thieves mumbled. Silently, they thought of how strongly Rossi sounded like he belonged in the Mafia at that moment.

"I had no idea you liked cookies so much, Dave." Hotch uttered quietly next to him.

"The finer things, Aaron. I enjoy the finer things in life and those cookies happen to be on that list." The older man replied seriously.

"Ah-ha! Found you, my sweet!" Garcia cheered from her laptop, gaining everyone's attention. "Let's see here; Spencer Reid, born October 9, 1981 to William and Diana Reid. Graduated from Las Vegas Public High in. . . " She trailed off, her eyes widening. "Oh my God."

"What? What'd you find Garcia?" Hotch asked, concerned at her shocked look.

"I- I have no idea how to say this." She said softly, but they couldn't have heard her louder if she yelled it.

"Just read what's on your screen, Baby Girl." Morgan told her, wondering what was on that screen that surprised her so much.

"All right," She took a deep breath. "Spencer Reid graduated from Las Vegas Public High in 1994 when he was 12. . ."

* * *

 

"Come clean? Mom that's the last thing I want to do!" Spencer said frantically after he finished his story.

"Spencer, you know how I feel about lies. I never liked the thought of you hiding your talents from the world in the first place." She told him resolutely. "Besides you can't tell me that in that brilliant mind of yours, you never expected this day to come; that you never expected someone would discover you. Lies always fall apart sooner or later-you know that."

"I know." He frowned miserably. "I just don't want it to be anytime soon."

"Spencer, it's been four years since you started this lie-"

"Experiment. It was an experiment to see how people reacted differently to people they thought less intelligent-"

"It doesn't matter  _what_  it started out as, it's been twisted into a lie." She cut him off. "Spencer, I don't understand why you're being so stubborn about this. You've told me more than once how much you hate acting dumb. In fact, I never understood why you felt the need to hide your genius in the first place. Please baby, help me understand what's going on in your head." Diana pleaded, desperately wanting to help her son but was at a loss of how.

"Because it was better, mom!" Spencer burst out, jumping to his feet. "It was better to be thought of as stupid! Suddenly I was free: no more expectations to always know the answer, no more painful encounters with jealous and angry people, no more being the smartest kid in the room- no more being the  _only_  kid in the room." He ranted as he paced around the room.

". . .no more being looked upon like a freak. No more being the odd one out. No more  _loneliness_." He ended sadly.

"Oh, Spencer." She whispered as she stood up.

"But, no, that's not right; I was still lonely." He gave a bitter laugh but no tears; he had cried enough. "I discovered that despite the smiles, the laughs and the good times, I was still unbearably, unconditionally lonely. But hey, at least this time it came without most the injuries that I'm used too, so that has to be a step up right? And I was fine with that. I was fine being a fake and getting roughed up a little because at least they weren't doing it because I was smart and I wasn't looked upon as a social pariah. This way, I was accepted partially and that was more than enough. For a long time, that was more than enough for me." He told her, voice ragged, brown eyes desperately pleading for her to understand.

"Baby." She said, hugging him tightly, feeling him shudder from the force of his emotional upheaval. "You should never have to feel like that, never Spencer."

"But I did; I do." He confessed in a small voice against the crook of her neck, accepting her comfort that had been so rarely given to him as a child. "And then  _they_ came and suddenly my perfectly crafted persona was under more pressure than it had ever been before and they weren't even intentionally doing it! Stupid BAU for bringing in their geographical profiles, making me feel like me again. Stupid agents for being so nice and kind. Stupid me for wanting to have what they have. Isn't that something mom? I haven't even known them for three days and I want to be with them; I want to discuss crimes and give statistics and create profiles and be their  _friend_. Virtual strangers." He ended in such a pitiful laugh; all she could do was hold him tighter.

"Shh, calm down Spencer." She told him softly. "It's all going to be all right. Perhaps not at first but it will get better, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." He said, looking at her with a wreck of a smile, throwing her own advice back at her that she had given to him so many times over the years.

"Don't make me ground you, young man." She jested in mock-sternness.

"Heh, every time you did, you forgot a few hours later." He replied, reminding her of the old days.

"Yes. I would wonder why you stayed in your room on such beautiful days and you would have to remind me. Most children wouldn't have bothered."

"Sometimes I didn't." He admitted. "But I knew when I deserved punishment, mom."

"Yes, you did. You don't deserve it now, I think. Perhaps a reprimand but not a punishment."

"Mom-"

"Excuse me," Dr. Norman interrupted the two. "I'm sorry Spencer, but visiting hours are over." He told them regretfully.

Both looked at each other with twin frowns and Spencer squirmed a little, not wanting to admit that he would really just like to stay with his mom tonight. Her presence always calmed him down and made him feel safe.

"Dr. Norman, may Spencer stay the night with me?" Diana asked, in tune with her child's needs.

"Diana, you know that's against regulations. . ."

"Please? I promise to cooperate and try out that new medication you prescribed to me without a fuss." She bargained.

"Well, alright. Just for tonight though." He relented, knowing how difficult Diana could be when she felt like it. She was a force to be reckoned with on those days.

"Come on, Spencer." She said, tugging his arm. "You look like you haven't slept well in ages."

She was right, of course, but he wasn't going to make her worry. That night, cramped up on a couch caddy cornered to her bed, he slept wonderfully for the first time in what felt like years.

* * *

 

The sun shone brightly the next morning and for the first time in a long time he truly felt like smiling. He was in a good mood today. He had a good night's sleep and a semi-lovely breakfast with his mom (he says semi-lovely because she convinced the other patients to start a food fight with the workers as a form of rebellion) and even though he was still in yesterday's clothes with messy hair and looking like a bum, he felt refreshed and energized. If he knew how to whistle, he would.

Getting off at his stop, he cheerfully walked to his apartment.  _Mom's right. I have to come clean but I still have time._ He thought as he searched for his keys.  _Who knows, maybe they'll understand. Well, the BAU doesn't matter anymore. The case is done and they're on their way back to Virginia. The officers and secretaries though, they deserve the truth._

Just as he fished out his keys, a voice called out from behind him.

"Rough night, Pretty Boy?" Dropping his keys in shock, he whirled around to see the whole BAU team looking at him.

"Oh." He swallowed after a moment of silence, trying to wrap his mind around why they were in front of his apartment when they should have been thousands of miles up in the air. Come to think of it, how did they know where he lived?

"Hi." He greeted them lamely with a small wave, wondering why he felt like an intervention was heading his way.  _Please don't tell me they want to talk._

"Reid," Hotch started, taking a step forward making his black sunglasses glint dangerously in the light. "We need to talk."

_. . .damn it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anagrams
> 
> Pierce Derns- Spencer Reid  
> Las Vegas Art Murders  
> Lia Hope= Ophelia  
> Ana Osmil= Mona Lisa  
> Mia Bard= Barmaid (There's no way I could get an anagram name from the actual title but I felt this fit)  
> Pearl Revmere= Pearl Vermeer (Combo of title of painting and painter)  
> Sari Dowft= Two Fridas  
> Mike Ralli = I’m a killer


	6. Chapter 5: Spill Your Secrets in the Kitchen

"Talk? About what?" Spencer asked nervously, trying to stall for time as his mind raced over reasons why the BAU would be on  _his_  doorstep.  _I'm not about to be arrested, am I? No, I haven't done anything wrong. Well, I did lie but it had nothing to do with the case! They can't take me in for lying about my personal life can they? Get ahold of yourself Spencer! The more you panic, the more they're going to think something's up! Just take a deep breath and put on that stupid smile you spent so much time perfecting! After that, just ramble and babble all you can!_

"We just wanted to ask you a few questions-"

"About the case?" Reid interrupted Hotch (completely unaware that you  _don't_  do that), his face stretched into his trademark smile. "Cuz I didn't do much; you guys did all the work. Speaking of work, I'm so glad I have today off! I can just stay in and watch the Fashion Week catwalks on the fashion channel! Gotta say, some of those heels- ouch! 12 to 24 inches! Some even taller! They grow every year, I swear."

"Reid." Hotch tried to speak but was steam-rolled over by Reid's chitter-chatter.

"And the makeup! So extravagant! One model had feathers attached as eyelashes. It was interesting- not every day you see purple feather eyelashes- but sometimes you wonder why it's called fashion and not trash. . ."

"Reid." Morgan began, seeing Hotch's jaw become set. The girls were all wide eyed at the fact that Reid had actually ignored Hotch, and Rossi was looking at his wrist watch.

"Not that I'm dissing the designers! I know they try hard, but some of those designs-”Reid shook his head in despair. "You just have ask yourself, "Why?" I mean, those models work so hard to get thin- some even die!" He gave a sad sigh. "They become so thin just to fit into something the makes people go, "ick!" He ended, making a sour face and sticking out his tongue.

"I'm impressed." Rossi told him seriously.

"Eh? About what?" Reid tilted his head to the side and made his eyes go big. The girls fell for it immediately but the men just rolled their eyes.

"I'm impressed at how far you're willing to go to change the subject. That  _is_  how you throw people off your trail isn't it? Just by yacking off their ears until they have to leave or forget what they wanted to originally ask you; simple but effective. I commend you but I'm afraid your efforts are useless, so you might as well just save your breath."

"What are you talking about?" Reid laughed, smile still frozen on his face. "I'm just being me."

"Funny, I never knew to be a genius you had to act like an idiot. I'll have to make a note of that." Rossi replied dryly and felt a twinge of guilt at how white Reid went as dread filled his eyes at the word 'genius'. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to say something but no words would come. Just when he thought he could speak, Hotch's voice filled his ears, sending a death knell straight to his heart.

"Reid, we know."

Three simple words but only two held any significance.

 _We know._  Was it sad that he knew at that exact moment that any other attempts to save himself would not only fail but look absolutely pathetic? He hated the thought of giving up but years of playing the casinos helped him understand that sometimes, you just had to fold- even if you didn't want to. So for first time in four years, he let his mask down in front of people that he did not entirely trust or even really know.

The team watched in amazement as the perky smile turned into a tiny frown. Happy eyes turned world- weary as the straight posture suddenly slouched against the door; as if Reid could no longer stand on his own. A long sigh escaped from pink lips as a thin hand ran through messy brown hair. The transformation had been quick-a blink would have missed it completely- but he looked entirely different after it was finished. He seemed more done in; as if he had seen too much, suffered too much in his short life.

"What can I do for you?" He asked in a dead voice that made them exchange looks of worry.

"You're not denying it?" Emily asked with a confused frown.

"No point in lying when you guys already know everything about me." Reid shrugged carelessly as he turned around and picked up his keys that had fallen on the floor. "I filled out forms to make sure specific parts of my file weren't for public viewing." He informed them as he unlocked his door. "The only way to access them is if you have authority and the FBI does. Listen, I really don't want to have this conversation in front of my home for all to see. Would you like to come inside?" Under any other circumstances he would have never allowed them in –too much evidence against him in the form of books with titles most couldn't pronounce- but since the jig was up, there wasn't anything to hide anyway.

He didn't wait for a response; just walked in and left the door wide open, already knowing they'd follow. They went to all the effort to find where he lived; he couldn't see them giving up now. Inwardly, he sighed as he headed toward the kitchen, intent on getting some coffee into his system.

The team followed him inside and were currently looking around in awe. It was a tiny apartment, nothing special by any means of the word, but the  _books_ , Lord, they were everywhere! On the couch, on counters, some were perched hazardously on the window seal and others were stacked up on the floor to the point that they had to follow a small path made by Reid over the years.

"Christ, if I didn't think each and every one of these had been read I'd say he's a hoarder." Rossi grumbled as he stubbed his toe on an encyclopedia.

A bang was heard along with a drawn out, " _Nooooooooo!_ " from the kitchen. Worried, they followed the noise and found Reid staring lifelessly into an empty coffee canister.

"I was going to offer you guys some coffee but it seems I've run out. My good morning has turned rotten." He moaned sadly, fighting back another sigh as he tossed the container into his trash. First his cover was blown, now this? The apocalypse was coming, he just knew it.

"So, what can I do for you?" He asked nervously as he pulled out a chair and sat down at his table. He would have offered them a place to sit but he never expected company so the other chair was covered with books. It was the same in the living room. He didn't think they'd stay very long so there wasn't a point in moving the books just to move them back.

"You can answer a few questions for us." Hotch replied calmly, removing his sunglasses so Reid wouldn't feel more intimidated than he already was.

"Sure, but only if you answer mine." The young man bargained. The profilers looked at each other for a moment before Hotch answered.

"That's fine. First off, why are you hiding?"

"I don't know what you're talking about; I'm right here. It's not like I changed my name or had plastic surgery." Reid replied innocently, making one last bid for freedom.

"Reid. . ." Hotch let the silent warning hang in the air

"Alright." Reid huffed with a pout that made Garcia hide a forming smile. "It was for personal reasons. I wasn't hurting anyone and I’ve never tampered or contaminated any cases or evidence the department received. My turn." He said quickly so they wouldn't make him elaborate on his reasons. "What gave me away?"

"Your act is very good, Mr. Reid." Rossi took over and motioned to Garcia. She nodded and began digging into her purse for something. "But you slipped up when you looked at the map after you changed it."

"How do you know I changed it?" Reid countered as Garcia let out a happy cry as she pulled out a magazine.

"The way you looked at it the night you brought us food. Also, with your math skills, you're the only one who would be able to change it that quickly. I must confess though," Rossi told him as he took the magazine from Garcia and flipped to a marked page. "When I first saw you, I thought you looked like someone I had seen before. I couldn't pin it down and decided to let it go. It was only after you gave us all that information on the paintings that I knew where I had seen you before." He handed the magazine over to Reid and watched his eyes widen in realization.

"If you want to hide your identity maybe you shouldn't allow the publishers to put your picture by your pseudonym, Dr. Derns." Rossi ended dryly as Spencer looked down at his picture that had been put under an article he had written a few weeks ago.

He was dressed in a sweater and had been wearing his glasses that day. He'd even made sure leave product out of his hair. He hadn't wanted his photo taken but the editors pleaded with him and in the end he figured no one would connect it to him.

"The people I work with don't read these types of articles." Reid mumbled, letting the  _Psychology Today_  fall on the table.

"No, I don't imagine the police force has much interest in " _The Chemical Imbalance of the Brain and its Effects on the Mind._ " However, when you're a profiler, reading articles like this can be essential to our work." Rossi ended. "Now, I'm going to ask you the same question Hotch did: why are you hiding your abilities?"

"I already told you, for personal reasons!" Reid snapped back; irritated that they had gone back to that.

"Not good enough, Pretty Boy." Morgan said with a shake of his head. "C'mon kid, give us something to work with."

"Work with? Last time I checked, my personal life was not a case file for you to view and dissect!" Reid leveled the man a glare. Unfortunately, it had more the look of a disgruntled kitten than an angry lion, so Morgan and the girls had to fight the grins off their faces. They knew Reid would not appreciate it. Rossi freely let his smirk loose and Hotch's mouth twitched upward for a nano-second before forming a straight line again.

"You're right, you aren't a case." Hotch told the young man. "But the fact that you went through all this effort to hide- _lie_ , makes you suspicious. You're a genius Reid, yet you're wasting your time mindlessly filing things away in the back of a dusty room? No, you have a motive and we would like to know what it is."

"My motive? My  _motive_?" Reid yelled as he stood up, losing his patience. "What? You think I'm preparing to blow up a building or something? Go on a massacre? Make Vegas go up in a blaze? I am not an unsub for you to profile- I'm not doing this because I'm angry or want revenge on anyone. You think I  _like_  acting stupid? Do you know how demeaning it feels when I have to tell people I think the BAU stands for Beauty Association Union? You don't think it kills me a little when I have to intentionally mix things up and work extra hard to trip over things? You think I like the looks of pity and the eyes rolling back in annoyance at my behavior? Of course not!" He spat out, cheeks flushed in anger as his thin chest heaved in big gulps of air.

"Then why do you do it?" Hotch jumped in. He had interrogated hundreds of suspects and over time learned that the best time to get answers was when they went into emotional upheavals like the one Reid was in right now.

"For protection!" The boy's voice cracked. "For survival because as much as I dislike acting stupid, I'm being treated far better than I ever was as a genius. Do you know how many broken bones I've received over the years just because someone was mad that I was smarter than them? How many death threats I received if I didn't keep my mouth shut about one thing or another? Oh, I doubt they would have gone through it, but the fact that I got them in the first place shows how uncomfortable-a _ngry_ \- I made people and I was just being me!" He ended heatedly, brushing away a few tears that had spilled over. Why was he so teary these days?

"Why didn't you ask for help?" Emily asked quietly, her eyes holding sympathy for him.

"Help? From who?" He snorted. "Don't you know? I'm a _genius_. I already have the answers. _'Oh Spencer, they're just jealous; they'll get over it._ ' He said in a high pitched voice, a mocking version of school counselor he had in the past. "Yeah they got over it," He snorted, "They got over it by stripping me naked and tying me to a goal post." He shuddered at the memory, not realizing he had said it out loud, missing Garcia's shocked gasp at the information.

"Are you talking about your high school?" JJ asked, thinking back on her own years. She had been popular but she had never treated the nerds harshly like the others.  _But you didn't stop them either._  A voice whispered in her head and she winced in guilt.

"Oh yes, high school was a  _blast_. In any case, it will make a great paper on why you shouldn't allow adolescents to go in early. Not that college was any better." Reid finished in a tart voice.

"Ah yes, college. Heard you went to a pretty snazzy one." Rossi said casually.

"Ah, I’ll admit I learned quite a few things at Caltech but it wasn't any different than high school." Reid told him with a sad, almost nostalgic, look on his face as the memories swelled up inside. "The staff was so excited to have a genius on board but that's the only thing they cared about; just the genius. Not me, not Spencer Reid. As long as I was wowing them with my brilliance my emotional state wasn't important. And the students!" Reid scoffed in disgust. "You'd think they'd be different than my high school buddies but no, I guess even smart people hate it when a kid doesn't even try and still upstages them. To be fair though, only the science majors hurt me physically but I'll be damned if the whole student body wasn't doing a Shut Out on me." He told them with a bitterness one so young shouldn't have.

"You're telling me these science wimps laid hands on you?" Morgan asked in a dangerous voice, his anger rising at every new segment of Reid's story.

"Hmm, how did they put it again? Oh, I remember!" Reid said with a false smile. "I was their  _science experiment_. Just so you know, having ammonia sprayed into your eyes hurts like nothing else. Ha ha, I couldn't see anything but blurs for weeks even with my glasses and my eyes were always watering up from the pain. That's an alkali burn for you. All for some kid's science experiment on the different effects of ammonia. Guess what I discovered? It cleans and burns! You know the funniest part? My eyes never fully healed, thank goodness for contacts! Ha ha HA!" He ended with a mad laugh and Penelope couldn't take it anymore. She burst through the group and wrapped his shaking form in a hug before he knew what was happening.

"Oh God, Sweetie. Never again, never. . ." She trailed off, her mascara running down her face as she held his squirming form in her tight hold.

"You shouldn't promise things like that." He chided her softly, feeling bad for making her cry. He hadn't told them to make anyone cry. In fact- he berated himself silently- he hadn't meant to tell them anything. Now he made his life sound like one big tragedy.

"It's fine Miss Garcia." He coughed awkwardly as he tried to shuffle out of her grip and failed spectacularly. "I mean, it wasn't near as bad as I made it sound-"

"Don't you dare try to downplay this!" She told him with an angry frown, tapping his arm slightly in warning. "You don't know this Sugar, but I also went Caltech and our years overlapped slightly."

"What?" He managed to croak out. No, no way. She was lying.

"Yes. I was in my last year when this tiny slip of a boy ran into me one day. . ."

"Stop." He whispered quietly.

". . .running from these creeps with pliers and scissors. They had such  _gleeful_  looks of malice on their faces, it made me sick. God, what were they going to do to you?" She asked him in a hushed voice.

"I don't know." He confessed. "After you threatened to ruin their social lives they never came near me again. They probably thought we were friends. I assumed you were on a college visit. I had never seen you before."

"And I thought you were someone's kid. Believe me Sweets, if I had known you were Spencer Reid, I would have been your friend faster than you could recite the periodic table." She gave him a wink.

"Really?" He asked, doubt and hope mingling within him at her declaration.

"Of course! I love it when people get put off balance and, baby, you did that a lot back in the day." She giggled. "Besides, how can I resist those big brown eyes, shy smile and. . ." She gave a perverted grin as she groped his behind before giving it a playful slap. "Mmm, firm. Me likey."

"Miss Garcia!" He yelled, scandalized at her bold actions, now frantically trying to get out of her grip.

"I think you can skip the formalities. I did just feel you up, you know." She pointed out impishly, finally releasing him.

"Yeah, I felt it. Thanks." He told her sarcastically, trying to will away the heat from his cheeks.

"So I take it Caltech doesn't hold fond memories for you." Rossi added in, causing the light mood to return to its former dark one.

"It was basically the same as high school." Reid shrugged doing exactly what Garcia told him not to do by downplaying his experiences. "After Caltech, I was invited over to MIT but I passed."

"Why?" Hotch questioned him.

"I figured it'd be the same as Caltech and I wasn't keen on repeating that no matter how much I love to learn. Besides, I already knew what I wanted to do. But what I want I can't have." He told them despondently.

"Why?" Morgan asked curiously, trying to think of what a genius wouldn't be allowed to do.

"Let me ask you this: is Mr. Gideon still working for the BAU?" He asked and his interest perked up at their suddenly closed expressions.

"You knew Gideon?" Hotch asked in a guarded voice.

"I've never spoken to him. He was a guest speaker at Caltech one year. He explained what profilers did, how they did it, the works. I loved every moment and I knew that's what I wanted to be." He admitted shyly, expecting them to laugh and was surprised when no one did.

 _I wanted to be like you._  It wasn't spoken but they could all hear it.

"So why didn't you talk to him? I think he would have been impressed." Rossi said seriously, thinking of how smug Jason would have been if he had found this kid.

"Impressed? With what, my black eye? I was late to the lecture so I had to stand in the back. I was too far back to ask questions without yelling. That would have brought me attention that I did not want. Afterwards I was going to speak to him, but he was surrounded by so many people and I was so stunned by his message that I would have just been a nervous wreck. Besides, he clearly stated you had to go through the FBI Academy. I didn't meet the age requirement and I think we all know I would have failed the physical section. I realized right away it was a hopeless dream. A nice dream, but a hopeless one all the same." He lamented.

"You seem so certain." Emily noted in slight worry. Did Reid believe he was that worthless?

"I hate to admit this, but I'm not exaggerating my clumsiness that much. We've already established that I'm not stupid, but can you imagine the terror it would cause if I was given a loaded gun? The results wouldn't be pretty." He tried to joke but didn't get any laughs for his efforts. Ouch, tough crowd.

"Profilers don't need to carry a gun." Rossi pointed out wisely.

"No, but they still need to go through training and in training you have to pass the firearms qualifications. Believe me, I tried one night at a gun range just to make sure I wasn't psyching myself out. Again, the results only cemented what I already knew. I am surprised though, I thought Mr. Gideon would be here with you guys." He said, slyly changing topics.

"Gideon retired two years ago." Hotch said after a moment of frantic silence at the new topic. Gideon had never been the same after the Bale case. When he had come back from leave he had been absolutely ruthless in his hunt for unsubs. He had become. . .cold, for lack of better word, and had tried convince Strauss to allow him to go the lone wolf route, like it used to be. She wasn't taking it- not after working so hard to change that regime- and in the end Gideon had more or less been forced into retirement.

 _Maybe it would have been different if he had found that protégé he had been searching for._  Hotch thought has he took in Spencer Reid. "Gideon retired and Rossi was kind enough to come out of retirement until a replacement was found." At this Rossi snorted slightly.

"Yeah, two years ago. I think it's safe to say I'm out of retirement and am a permanent fixture on this team." The older man commented wryly, making the others smile at his dry humor.

"Oh. I see." Was all Reid said, understanding immediately by their faces that there was more to the story than a simple retirement. He decided to keep quiet and let it go; it wasn't his business anyway.

"Alright kid," Morgan spoke up, "I get that you were feeling down about how people treated you, but to act stupid? Really?" The agent asked.

"It fooled you didn't it?" Reid replied haughtily. "And no, you obviously don't get. I wasn't 'feeling down' about how people treated me. That would imply that I had happier times which I didn't, unless you count learning something new."

"Alright, alright, I didn't mean to offend you or demean what you went through." Morgan amended. "But you had to have support from someone, right? Mom? Dad? A best friend?"

"Anybody who wanted to be my friend was driven away quickly by the bullies or just wanted their homework done. My mom," He frowned as he thought over how to word his next sentence. "She tried hard to be there for me but she wasn't well then and she's not well now."

"Well what about your dad? I'm sure he was proud of you." Morgan tried, unaware of the landmine he was stepping on.

"Oh yes, so proud he walked out when I was ten." Reid bit out. "You know, the word father actually has a lot of definitions to it. Here's one: A man who raises a child. Now here's my personal definition: The dead beat that walked out without even saying good bye. I'm telling you Morgan, there was no one."

"I'm sorry Reid. I didn't know." Morgan apologized, cursing himself for being so forceful.

"Well now you do, so please don't bring it up again."

"But I still can't wrap my head around this. Acting stupid just seems ridiculous."

"I thought so too in the beginning. You know it only came to me when I was half asleep and I decided to write it down." Reid admitted to them with a small grin. "When I looked over what I wrote in the morning I couldn't believe I had jotted that down. The idea in and of itself sounded stupid. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was one of those ideas that was so dumb, it would actually work."

"So how'd you go about becoming dumb?" Emily asked, honestly wondering how he did it. "I mean as a genius, I doubt you ever felt stupid."

"I did research. Got kicked out of the mall." He told them without a care, missing their confused looks at the mall part. "Watched a bunch of movies on the subject and soon concluded that there were three major types I could study from: The Empty Headed Jock, the Listless Druggie, and the Dumb Blonde. I didn't fit the physical requirements to be a jock and taking narcotics was never part of the plan, which left me with-"

"-the Dumb Blonde." Garcia ended his sentence before letting loose a gleeful laugh. "Oh Sweetie, that's the best thing I've heard in a long time!"

"Go ahead, laugh it up." He told the group with a haggard look. "Just remember you fell for it."

"So is that the reason you. . ." Morgan trailed off, uncertain how to say what he wanted.

"Look feminine?" Reid asked bluntly, seeing the question a mile off.

"Yeah."

"It was something I overlooked." Reid admitted. "By the time I saw the full result, I had to go to class. I had signed up to take some courses at Las Vegas University. I didn't think one day would make a big difference but, for once, girls were quick to become friends with me. I figured it wouldn't be smart to change after that. Over the years it's just become a habit."

"So you're not-"

"I'm not gay and if you ever hit on me again, I will punch you in the face." Reid told him with a lovely smile on his face.

"You do that, Pretty Boy. But you're plan didn't work a 100% did it?" Morgan asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The officers rough housing with you? C'mon man, we may not be geniuses but we're not stupid either." Morgan told him pointedly.

"Oh that." Spencer shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not worried about them. Trust me, what they're doing is child's play to what I've gone through."

"The fact that they're messing with you at all means your plan didn't work!" Morgan practically yelled in frustration. How could Reid not see that?

"I happen to think it worked out relatively well." Reid replied tightly.

"How so?" Morgan challenged.

"Acceptance." Reid muttered.

"What?"

"Acceptance. It was part of my motivation to hide. First was for survival but I had a second reason and that was to gain acceptance. It gets lonely awfully fast when you're the only genius in the room." He confessed. "And you know, I've been lonely my whole life. No one really tried to connect with me despite my own desperate attempts. Call me shallow if you want for my reasoning but if you’ve ever felt alone in a crowded room because of who you are; if you’ve ever felt condemned for being yourself, then maybe you can understand why I had to change. I did gain acceptance; not from everyone but if a few bruises and being pushed around is the only price I have to pay, then so be it." He told them with a quiet resolve. "I can't give it up. I can't give it up and go back to being alone."

"Nobody's going to make you." Hotch assured him. "But I don't think you should have to pretend to be something you're not to gain what should be given freely without judgment."

"Yeah, well, that's just the way it is." Reid replied firmly.

"It doesn't have to be that way." Hotch countered.

"Oh? And who's going to accept me for me?" Reid asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Us." Hotch told him simply.

"I'm sorry?" Reid shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Us." Hotch repeated. "All of us would accept you."

"Most of what you've seen was an act." Reid reminded him quietly.

"Yes, but even your act had the real you shining through. I've seen people fake kindness and being nice before, so I know for a fact that every baked good, every cup of coffee and food brought to us by you wasn't just for the act. That was you. When you cheered us on and made banners- that was you. Maybe a little exaggerated but it was you. Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but we've heard your story and not a single person here thinks you deserved it. We're not laughing, Reid."

"Just because you've heard it doesn't mean you can handle me. I have faults; I trip all the time, I babble on and on, I'm bad with social interaction." The young man felt the need to point out.

"Everyone is flawed." Rossi stepped in. "I'm an arrogant bastard on my good days, Hotch can't smile to save his life, Garcia smiles too much-"

"Hey!" She yelped in offense.

"-Morgan snores and steals food off your plate-"

"Man, I do not!" The man complained.

"Yes you do." Emily muttered back.

"- Emily steals pens and never returns them. Also, she puts her files into other people's stacks. JJ's idea of a gift is a carrot-"

"I wanted you to start eating healthier!" She countered, trying to defend her actions.

"She also cheats at arm wrestling." Rossi ended with his trademark smirk, seeing how annoyed his team looked. "So you see, we all have our faults. Each one annoying in its own special way. Trust me, we can handle you."

"I'd still have to go through training. I don't think I'd make it." Reid replied.

"Your lack of confidence in yourself makes me sad." Rossi told him bluntly. "I'm not saying this to get your hopes up, but I've read almost every article you've ever written under the name Dr. Pierce Derns. They have given me insight on things I thought I already knew and have helped crack more than one cold case."

"Really?" Reid blurted out in shock.

"Yes. The bureau wanted to recruit you but the magazine that published your works refused to give over you real name; Privacy Act and all that jazz. In any case, I bet the higher ups would have lowered the age limit for you and turned blind eye if your training results were less than stellar in the physical area."

"What? But that would be dangerous! Not only that, but it wouldn't be fair to the other new agents." Reid protested.

"You think the bureau cares about fair?" Rossi snorted. "Kid, they want two types of people: intimidating ones and smart ones. Trust me, with a mind like yours, they'd give you a lot of leeway."

"I still don't like it. It would make me feel like I didn't earn it." Reid told him.

"Which makes you a better person than you know. But, just so you're aware, we aren't against consultants with certain expertise." Morgan interrupted with a grin. "And since I have a feeling you're an expert in just about everything, we wouldn't be against your presence."

"A consultant?" Reid let the word flow over his tongue. He kinda liked the sound.

"Or a mail room sorter. We could use one of those." Hotch decided to throw in.

"What?" Emily asked him, laughter in her tone.

"What? We are hiring for one. It's a civilian job; no training needed and if you stayed longer on our floor, then so be it." Hotch said, completely serious.

"Um, I don't know. . ." Reid told the man, trying to reject the idea in a way that wouldn't make the other mad.

"It's only a suggestion." Hotch replied.

"Yes, but when it comes from you, it sound like an order." Reid admitted and received lots of laughs for his statement.

"You're not afraid of Hotch are you?" JJ asked with a twinkle in her eyes. "You don't have to be. You pegged him right when you gave us our drinks a few days back; bitter but sweet."

"So he won't become hulk-like and crush me if I do something wrong?" Reid asked, just to make sure.

"What? No man! For a genius, you have a wild imagination!" Morgan spoke up before bursting out in laughter as the image of Hotch growing ten feet and turning green with his stoic expression still in place filtered into his mind.

"Am I that scary?" Hotch muttered, picking up a random spoon and looking at his reflection. He looked stern but surely not that stern?

"My friend, you look angrily constipated half the time." Rossi ribbed him.

"Dave, I suggest you become quiet before I start recalling some stories about you from my rookie days." Hotch threatened.

"Ah, did I say angrily constipated? I meant fresh and beautiful as a butterfly." Rossi amended with a grin on his face.

"Right. You just remember that when a certain picture makes it to Garcia." Rossi froze at the threat.

"You wouldn't." He challenged.

"I guess you'll find out when the time comes." Hotch replied casually, setting down the spoon.

"A possibly embarrassing photo of David Rossi? This I got see." Garcia said with a smile. "Since, you know, I smile too much."

"Now, now, don't get mad. I did include myself on that list." Rossi tried to take control of the conversation.

"Yeah, one fault while most of us got two." Emily sniffed.

"I call it like I see it." He told her.

"What? Oh it's  _on_. Hotch, make copies of that picture and send it to everyone." Morgan told their leader.

Reid, forgotten in their playful banter, smiled as he took them in. They seemed so comfortable around each other. Would they really accept him? They said they would, but minds changed all the time. He needed to think it over. Just moving from Vegas to Virginia was a big decision by itself, let alone for a job he might not even get. Yes, he would definitely have to think this over and it would have to be away from them.

"As interesting and as enlightening as this has been," He called out, gaining their attention. "It's a big decision that I need to think on. Also, I need to take a shower and change clothes." He said somewhat embarrassed, remembering that he had slept in his day clothes form yesterday and hadn't changed yet. "I'm not trying to kick you out." He hastily assured them.

"It's ok, Sugar." Garcia grinned at him. "It'd be even better if you let me join you in that shower."

"Um, thank you?" He said hesitantly. "But I'll pass."

"Pity." She pretended to cry, wiping away a fake tear.

"We understand, Reid." Hotch told him. "We haven't eaten yet so we'll go get something to eat before going back to the hotel."

"Yeah, about that, why are you guys still here?" Reid asked, wondering why they hadn't been on their plane.

"The jet broke." They all replied with matching smiles that made him suspect there was more to the story.

"Right." He said slowly. "I'll show you to the door."

As they filed out one by one, they all gave their goodbyes to him and he recuperated, feeling generally sad at their leaving.

"Remember," Rossi said as he gave Reid a business card. "You're a shoe- in for the BAU. Trust me. If you have any questions, call me." He informed Reid before walking off.

"Here's my number and email address." Garcia said in her friendly but forceful way, shoving a piece of paper into his hands. "Even if you don't take the job, we will be talking because we're friends and I'm not letting you go."

"Thanks, Garcia." He told her with a smile as he gave her a hug.

"If you want to come in my suitcase, you can." She whispered in his ear.

"What?"

"Nothing." She said quickly, breaking the embrace and leaving with a swift walk.

"Take care, kid." Morgan patted his back. "If those cops bug you again, don't take it, ok? You don't deserve it." It was the man's last piece of advice before he began walking to the car.

"Sure." Reid said softly, staring at his back, before someone cleared their throat to gain his attention. "Sorry!" He apologized when he realized Hotch was trying to get his attention.

"Reid, I promise I don't have a hulk mode." Hotch felt the need to assure him. "Also, I think you should know, I would find it an honor if you joined my team but don't do anything you don't want to. Take your time to think this over alright?"

"Of course." Reid replied faintly, flattered by the man's words. "Have a safe trip."

Waving to them from his front door, he watched as they sped off. Today had been full of surprises and it wasn't even noon.

"My, I don't think I've ever seen you have company over." One his neighbors remarked as she walked by. "Friends of yours?"

"Yeah," He said with a slow smile. "Friends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anagram  
> Pierce Derns= Spencer Reid


	7. Chapter 6: Diana Reid Meets the Enemy

"Arg! Why hasn't he called yet? I want to know his answer!" Garcia whined as she sat down on the edge of her bed, her eyes showing her frustration at the situation. The team had gathered in her room to discuss the one thing that was driving her crazy: Reid.

"Garcia, it's only been a day. Give him time." Rossi said calmly.

"He shouldn't need time!" She snapped back childishly. "He's been offered his dream job! It shouldn't even take five minutes to figure it out."

"Now hold on, Baby Girl." Morgan cut in. "We kinda just offered the job out of the blue to him. I'm sure he's still in shock over that alone. In fact, with his history, he might think it's a setup."

"What? We'd never do that to him!" Surprisingly, it was JJ to answer. Her blue eyes looked at Morgan like she couldn't quite believe what he had just said. "We aren't cruel people, Reid knows that."

"Does he?" Rossi questioned. "He's known us less than week. Not only that, but I suspect he hasn't told us every encounter he's had with a bully. Trust me, more people than you know have that Ted Bundy smile with the same predator instincts."

"Even if he doesn't think it's a trap, it's still asking a lot from him." Hotch intervened. "Think about it; we're asking him to leave his home and move across the country without so much as a by- your- leave. We're asking him to leave behind everything he knows and loves."

"But he has so many bad memories here." Emily pointed out. "He might be itching to get out."

"Just because someone has bad memories about a place doesn't mean it's not home. I had more dark times in Chicago than I'd like to think about but I still love the city and the people. True, it's not my home anymore but it's my home away from home." Morgan countered.

"Alright, alright, I get it." Garcia grumped into her pillow. "It's a harder choice than I thought but I hate being stuck in limbo like this."

"That's because you're so use to having the answer at your fingertips." Morgan teased her with a handsome smile on his face.

"Well I am the greatest tech goddess around." She winked, not the least bit modest about her skills.

"Ah, excuse me." Rossi told the group as his phone began to buzz. He had never been one to talk on the phone around a crowd, so he left the room to have his conversation in private.

"I wonder who called him?" Emily asked aloud the question on everyone's mind.

"Maybe it's one of his three ex-wives wanting more money." Morgan joked.

"Nah. He didn't look annoyed enough for it to be something like that." Garcia dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Oh! Maybe a groupie snagged his number and has been phone worshiping him!"

"He didn't look THAT happy." JJ laughed. "It's probably someone from Quantico or one of his publishers." She finished and Emily made a noise of agreement.

"What do you think Hotch?" Morgan asked, curious to hear the answer.

"I think it's not our business." Came the ever Hotch-like response.

"Ah, come one Boss man! You're not the least bit curious?" Garcia waggled her eyebrows, trying to coax a response out of the stoic man.

"It's not our job to poke into people's personal lives."

"Actually, that is my job." Garcia shot back with a Cheshire grin. Morgan busted out laughing and both JJ and Emily wore sly smiles that said, ‘ _She's got you there._ ’ Before Hotch could reply, Rossi returned with an odd look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Hotch asked as the others looked on in concern. Maybe the phone call had been bad news.

"I'm not sure." Rossi admitted, his expression never changing as he looked down at his phone.

"You don't know? Who was it? What'd they say?" Garcia shamelessly questioned.

"It was Reid." Rossi told them bluntly. "He told me he's made his decision."

"Really?" Garcia squealed. "What'd he say? Don't leave us in the dark! I've been dying to know the answer for far too long!"

"He wanted to tell us in person and was wondering if we could meet him around 7 o'clock."

"I don't see that being a problem. We're done with the case and have nothing pressing to attend to." Hotch replied.

"Yeah, I don't understand why you look so concerned." Morgan admitted. "Unless he indicated that the answer was a no?" The man wondered out loud, hoping that wasn't the case.

"No, his voice stayed neutral throughout. It's where he wants to meet that has me baffled." Rossi said slowly as he thought over the conversation in his head.

"Where does he want to meet?" Emily questioned, trying to think of all the strange places Reid might want to meet. A library, maybe?

"He wants us to meet him at Bennington Sanitarium." Rossi told them bluntly, giving them the last location they would have thought of.

* * *

 

Spencer shifted nervously outside Bennington as he waited for the team to show up. He hadn’t intended for it to turn out like this, but he had to tell someone about his strange morning and that someone had been his mom. He was careful to not to tell her they worked for the government and her interest had been piqued. Before he knew it, she was demanding to know more about them. He did his best to change the subject but she wouldn’t budge. She was suspicious and worried that these people were trying to take advantage of her child. It took Spencer almost two hours to convince her they were good people with no ulterior motives.

"At least they're not government agents." She muttered and Reid did his best to hide his guilty expression. Unfortunately, she caught a glimpse of it and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Spencer. . ." She trailed off in a warning tone.

"Er," He squeaked. "Um, they work for the government but they don't spy on people?"

She hadn't taken that well.

Dr. Norman almost had her sedated but Spencer had managed to calm her down.

"While I'm glad you finally came clean to someone, did it really have to be the government? You know I don't trust them, Spencer! Why are you even bringing this up to me?" She asked him, anger clear in her voice.

"Because I want your approval." He said softly after a moment of quiet, in a nervous voice that made her heart break a little and her anger leave as quickly as it came.

"Oh baby." She said soothingly, rubbing his hands more for her comfort than his. "I may not like the idea of you working for the government but if that's what you want the do, do it and don't ever regret it."

"Really?" He asked, floored by her response. "You're not disappointed or ashamed or-"

"Silly boy." She flicked his forehead to get his attention. "While I'm honored that you want my approval, it's your life. Not mine, _yours_." She told him resolutely. "You spent years taking care of me and making sure we stayed afloat. You tried to please everyone. Well baby, I think it's time you started doing what you wanted. Like I said, it's your life Spencer. You can do whatever you want with it, so make sure you go a live a brilliant one. If not for yourself, then do it for me. I want to know you're happy." She ended, a wise smile gracing her face.

"Mom. . ." He trailed off, his emotions leaving him choked for words.

"There's only one thing I want." Diana said.

"What's that?"

"I want to talk to these people." She told him, the look in her eyes making it clear she wasn't taking no for an answer.

That's he found himself calling up Rossi and asking for the team to meet him here. The man on the other end seemed a little confused about the location but confirmed they'd be there at 7. Reid, in his nervous state, began to babble off directions before Rossi assured him they would be able to find the place with the GPSs in their vehicles.

He had already informed Dr. Norman that his mother would be meeting some people tonight. The man didn't like it, but Spencer begged until even his mother became annoyed and snapped that she could handle a few strangers.

He paced back and forth on the sidewalk as panicked whispers flooded through him; filling him with dread. He disliked disclosing such personal information to strangers but if he was going to work for them, he concluded they had the right to know that he might be. . . at risk.

 _What if they retract the offer?_ The question seized him like a heart attack. Technically, they couldn't do that-what with it being discrimination and all- but the job wasn't exactly on paper and, really, who would want a potential crazy on their team?

He had spent all day yesterday going the over pros and cons of taking the offer and how the team could affect him but it was only now that he realized _he_  would also be affecting _them_. Would the risk of being schizophrenic outweigh the fact that he's a genius?

Before he could work himself into a truly spectacular frenzy of nerves, a familiar voice called out to him in joy.

"My Sugar Man!" Garcia yelled, practically running in her heels to meet him, before stopping dead from shock.

"What, what-" She tried to form her question but was too horrified to finish.

"Is something wrong?" He asked her in a worried tone. Was there something on his face?

"Damn, Pretty Boy! Did you raid some grandpa's closet?" Morgan asked, taking in the sweater vest and khaki slacks. The boy's hair was slicked back with gel and he had on huge horn rimmed glasses. A completely different image from the suave one they were used to.

"What? Oh, my clothing." He chuckled slightly, realizing that's why he was getting weird looks from everyone. "I'm more comfortable in these clothes but they didn't fit with the act." He admitted sheepishly.

"Oh no." Garcia said firmly, walking up to him. "If your answer is yes, actually even if it's no, I will not accept this!" She exclaimed wildly poking his chest to emphasize her irritation.

"Excuse me?" He blurted out.

"This is a travesty!" She told him fiercely, tugging on his shirt. "You, my darling genius, are too yummy to hide behind such dreads. Lord, it's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in fashion form!"

"Um, I'm sorry?" He offered out tentatively.

"How about you talk fashion later?" Morgan cut in, feeling pity for Reid who was receiving outraged looks from all the ladies. "Frankly, I'm more curious about your answer and why you picked here for a meeting place."

"Oh, um, I thought it over and my answer is yes." He told them with a slight smile, wincing at Garcia's high pitched shriek of joy and the bone crushing hug she dragged him into as Emily ruffled his hair and JJ patted his back.

"But, but-! There's something I need to tell you!" He gasped out as he was released from the tech's steel grip of love.

"By all means, speak." Rossi said with a grand gesture.

"The thing is. . ."

He told them about his mom and about the schizophrenia she suffered from. He admitted to his own fear of developing it himself. He even went into depth on how the disease worked until Hotch stopped him.

"Alright Reid, that's enough." He told the young man after he realized Reid was talking because he was anxious and didn't know what else to do.

"Oh." Reid said in a sad voice as his eyes became alarming bright and big. "It's ok. I was kind of expecting it."

"Expecting what?" Hotch asked, confused.

"You retracting the offer. I mean, who wants to work with someone who could be a mental patient in a few years? The idea is absurd-"

"Wait, you think I'm taking back the job offer?" Hotch asked to make sure he was following the right train of thought.

"Well, yes. That is what you're doing, isn't it?" Reid asked back, his sad voice becoming confused.

"No, of course I'm not retracting the offer." Hotch assured him, realizing that Reid took his interruption as a sign that the team no longer wanted him. "I cut you off because we know about schizophrenia. Maybe not as in depth as you, but some unsubs have schizophrenia so we need to make sure we know the common patterns and thoughts that most experience. Trust me; the offer is still open to you."

"Really? But in a few years I might be-" He stopped himself, unable to say his worst fear out loud but they all heard it.

"Trust me darlin', you're worth it- even if you do have questionable taste in clothes." Garcia teased him in an effort to cheer him up.

"Yeah, besides Pretty Boy, we know enough about the disease to know you'd be showing signs about now and you're not, are you?" Morgan asked.

"No." Reid admitted.

"Then don't worry about it!" Emily laughed. "And if you do somehow end up like that, we won't leave you." She promised him; her dark eyes full of kindness.

"Is that why you wanted to meet here? To reinforce the idea of where you might end up to us?" Rossi spoke up, taking in the building.

"Ah, no. Actually this is where my mom is being taken care of." Reid explained. "I told her about you guys and the job offer. I felt she had the right to know what was happening. And um, she wants to meet all of you. If you don't mind." He ended quickly, eyes on the floor, convinced their answer would be a resounding no.

"Ok. Let's go." Morgan said casually, walking towards the entrance door.

"To meet the woman who bore and raised the most adorable man in Nevada? You bet I'm there! I want an autograph!" Garcia gushed.

"If it's your mom we're meeting, I'm in. She's bound to have some interesting stories about you. Maybe she could give me some tips; I have a little one myself. I don't think he'll be a genius though." JJ chuckled as she gently led a shocked Reid towards the doors that everyone was gravitating to.

"There's no shame in being normal." He told her quietly.

"There's also no shame in being extraordinary." She replied back in an equally soft voice. He blushed at her words but made no comment because he was speechless.

Meeting up with the rest of the group, he took lead and led them to where Diana was waiting.

"Before you talk to her, you should know she doesn't like the government." Reid explained. "It's in many of her delusions, so please forgive her if she acts rudely."

"Hates the government but still gives her blessing for you to join?" Rossi asked with a raised eyebrow before he smirked. "Hell of a mother you got there, kid. Mine's catholic and she still won't forgive me for being married and divorced three times."

"Yeah, she's great." Reid smiled before knocking on the door and poking his head in. "Mom?" The team heard him ask. "They're here. Can we come in?" They didn't hear the answer but Reid nodded and opened the door fully. He walked inside and gave them a glance that let them know it was ok to follow.

Entering the room, they saw a blonde woman with short hair sitting in comfy chair tucked in the corner. She was wearing a thick bathrobe and held a tiny book in her hands. Though she was nowhere near presentable for the outside world, she had the air of a queen and Garcia fought the urge to curtsy.

"Mom, these are the agents offering me the job in Quantico. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. Guys this is my mom, Diana Reid." Reid introduced.

"A pleasure, ma'am." Garcia said in a respectful tone.

"Likewise." Diana replied quietly but her sharp eyes told a different story. "Spencer, I left my slippers in the other room. Could you get them for me?"

"Eh? Um, sure." He said, unsure if he should leave but figured it wouldn't take that long to find a pair of slippers. "I'll be back soon." The moment he was gone, Diana let out a tired sigh and sat her book down on a nearby table.

"So, you're the fascists that manipulated my son into wanting a job with the enemy." She said dryly, blue eyes cold.

"Mrs. Reid, I promise you, our offer is pure." Hotch tried to assure her. "Nobody's trying to manipulate him. We only want what's best for him."

"Mmm. That college said the same thing; promised that he'd be happy and enjoy his time. So why is it that he came back to me more introverted than before? Why did he come back with bruises on his skin and even bigger bruises on his heart? Can  _you_ promise me that he can come back to me whole and mean it? I gave him my consent- not that he needed it- but if this job brings him back to me broken; if it brings him back to me because it drove him to be _like_  me, then we will have a serious problem, Mr. Fascist." She ended, never once changing her serious expression.

"We can't promise he'll never get hurt." Morgan took over. "But we will do our best to protect him."

"Oh you will?" She said somewhat mockingly. "And why should I trust your word? You, who've known my son for less than a week?" Diana demanded to know.

"Because he's too remarkable to lose." Garcia told the woman passionately. "The moment I saw him- he looked so different- I knew he was special; I just didn't know why. I know now, though, and it's not because he's a genius or the cutest thing since baby kittens."

"Then what is it?" Diana asked, interested in the answer.

"It was him. That's all. Just him. His nervous gestures, his eagerness to help others, his kindness." Garcia rattled off. "I had no clue how smart he was until recently but it doesn't change him. Stupid, average, or blindingly brilliant, he shines so lovingly, ma'am, how could I  _not_  be drawn to him?" Garcia enquired. "That light of his is irreplaceable; it's so bright and warm. To lose it would be a tragedy. You're right, I've only known him for a few days. I don't know his middle name, his favorite food, what movies he likes or what he does in his spare time." Her breath hitched. "But I know that if he died, I would mourn for years. I don't even like to think about it. To never see that sweet smile again. . ." She shuddered. "But ma'am, I'm not the only who's been drawn to him. He's touched everyone here in some way and not a one of us would ever wish him dead or hurt. I can't give you physical proof, but I swear on all that I am that not one person here is apathetic or hateful towards him. Please believe me." She implored to the stone faced woman.

"And you all feel this way?" Diana asked after a moment. Everyone nodded; eyes completely serious. "All right then, I believe you." She said finally.

"You do?" Emily asked, not quite believing that it was that easy to sway someone who obviously mistrusted them.

"Impassioned speeches like that always come from the heart. I used to be a literature teacher; I know how words work. I believe your friend and I believe the emotions you all wear so proudly for me to see."

"Can I just say, I think you are awesome?" Garcia asked the older woman.

"You just did but I always take flattery." Diana smirked at her.

"Oh! I am definitely getting your autograph." Garcia said excitedly as she dug around in her purse for paper and a pen.

"So, you look into people's lives Miss Garcia?" Diana asked delicately, making the others exchange wary glances.

"That's more or less the job description." Garcia hummed, succeeding in her task and handing over a small notepad and glittery pen to Diana. The older woman calmly took them and began to write in a neat script. It took longer than expected and when she handed it back Garcia knew why.

"Who are these people?" She asked as she looked over a list of names.

"People I want destroyed." Diana told her bluntly.

"Uh, Mrs. Reid, we can't-" Emily tried to intervene and was cut off.

"They all hurt Spencer. One boy actually sprayed ammonia in his eyes and his punishment was one week of restricted access to the labs. How is that right or fair?" she asked them in a tone that only an angry mother could possess.

"Mrs. Reid, we can't do that. It's against policy. Not only that but the incident happened years ago; no matter how this is pursued, neither you nor Spencer would gain anything from it." Hotch said, patiently but firmly.

"I'm no asking the government to do anything, why would I trust those bastards with something so important? I'm asking Miss Garcia if she'd be willing to help- if she was wanted to. I never said it had to be done on your computers. I don't trust the government with anything." She told him fiercely before calming down and giving him a look that he felt almost seared his soul.

"You have a child, don't you?" Diana asked, still staring into his dark eyes; her own never blinking, her expression never wavering.

"Yes. How did you know?" He calmly inquired back.

"A mother always knows." Was all she said, finally breaking the gaze and picking up her book again. "Tell me, Mr. Hotchner, how old is your child?"

"He'll be four soon." The man answered with a faint smile on his lips as he thought of Jack.

"And would you do anything for him?" Her eyes scanned over the pages as if she was absorbed in the novel.

"Of course."

"Anything?” She glanced up at him. “So if you knew your child was being hurt, if you knew your child was being beaten and talked down upon day after day and the school officials who are meant to protect him do nothing, what would you do?"

"I would talk it out with the principal and if that didn't work take it to court." He told her after thinking over the scenario in his head. It wasn't the answer she was looking for and she let him know.

"Do not give me the answers of a politician!" She snapped, slamming the book shut and glaring at him. "I am not stupid Mr. Hotchner, so please don't console me like you would some fool who couldn't tie their shoe laces right! You are a parent, but more importantly you, I, and everyone other human on this planet are animals- whether we like to think that way or not. Animals, Mr. Hotchner, have instincts and when their young are hurt by another predator they don't peacefully sit down and talk things out- they get angry and they attack. They will bite, claw, rip, even kill if that's what it takes and don't tell me you are any different because you're not! All you have to do is imagine your child broken and bleeding on the ground, calling out for you. That's all you need to see and that rage that every parent has ignites into a fire that can't be put out by words. Do you understand me, Mr. Hotchner?" Diana asked him harshly, clearly expecting a truthful answer.

"Perfectly." Was his short reply; his face pale as the image of Jack bleeding on the floor flashed through his head. She was right, he noted, because at that moment all he felt was rage and the need to maim whatever hurt his son.

"Miss Garcia, you don't have to do what I asked. I only asked because I couldn't fight for Spencer before." She told the bubbly woman, completely ignoring the fact that she had handed Hotch his own ass- something that had never been done before. "But my episodes were much more intense and frequent back then. I honestly don't know how we survived and Spencer refuses to tell me. That boy, always changing the subject on me." She muttered in irritation.

"Ma'am, I, unlike others, have no qualms about giving an eye for eye to certain people. Er, not at work of course." She hastily added. "But how did you get these names if you didn't know? Did Reid tell you?"

"The day Spencer comes clean about that is the day he’ll declare he hates coffee." The older woman muttered dryly. "No, the little bastards found our phone number and left taunting messages for him. I discovered them in a moment of clarity and kept my mind enough to write down the names. Good thing I did, because he erased them and tried to tell me I had been mistaken. I think he was worried I would do something awful like call up all the deans and presidents I knew and have those people banned from the university for life. Silly boy, even when he dislikes them he still feels they deserve an education." She muttered fondly as she thought about her child.

"But you can't help but love him for it." JJ spoke for the first time, a warm smile on her face.

"So, anything we should know about Pretty Boy?" Morgan asked, trying to lighten the mood. Diana shot him a weird look.

"Mr. Morgan," She began slowly, as if she was testing each word out beforehand, "Are you attracted to my son? Don't let him fool you; he's just acting." She told him with brutal honesty.

"What? No!" He yelped as the others began laughing. "I am not attracted to him! I am a Ladies Man! I gave him that nickname because it fits! Man, this is not fair- girls call each other pretty all the time and no one accuses them of being lesbians!" He complained.

"Double standard, Morgan. Double standard." Emily told him with a megawatt smile that clearly emphasized how much joy she got from his suffering.

"So. Reid. Anything we should know? Any interesting tidbits?" He desperately asked, trying to turn to conversation in a safer (less embarrassing) direction.

"If he ever says "I'm fine," assume the worst and get him to a hospital. He once told me he was fine after he had scraped his hand on a rusty can and was walking on a broken ankle." She said after mulling over the question. "I’m not sure why he has such a hard time accepting help but I have a feeling he doesn't enjoy showing any type of weaknesses."

"Ok, "I'm fine," is an alert phrase to know something's not right. Anything else?" Morgan asked, committing what she said to memory.

"If he's not talking, then something's wrong. It's harder to pry things from him than you think. Trust me, he is a master when it comes to redirecting conversations. Don't let him do it. Ask him what's wrong. Ask him over and over until he answers, follow him out of the room if you have to; he'll tell you after you've nagged him for a while."

"He's already tried that on us." Rossi told her as he thought of yesterday morning and how Reid babbled about fashion to try and throw them off. "His defense mechanisms are certainly interesting." Rossi commented. "Interesting and effective; he would have slipped by us with his act if it weren't for a few key things."

"And that, fascists, is the only reason I didn't lunge at you the moment you entered my room." She growled at them.

"What?" Emily choked out, shocked by the woman's words.

"I hate the government and I laughed at how well he fooled you. The fact is though, that his silly persona was draining him. I think it was killing him not to be able to talk to people how he wanted to. So I thank you for breaking him out of that role." She ended, gritting her teeth when she said thank you.

"It's as Garcia says; he has a light that just draws you in." Rossi told her smoothly.

"Yes, well, he'll be back soon. I imagine he's found out that I hid my slippers in the ceiling boards by now, so I'll leave you agents with this," She crooked a finger at them and they all drew closer until they were inches from her face.

"If you break your promise and my baby comes back broken, mark my words; I will find you and I will make you pay. You may end up dead or you may end up like me in a  _beautiful_  room like this. I'll make sure of it. Unlike like last time, I have faces to go with names. Doesn't matter where you hide or how far you go, I will hunt you down. Trust me, they will never find your body because there won't be anything left to find by the time I'm through with you. Understand?" She asked her voice barely above a whisper. "And know that I don't give idle threats, so you better keep to your word!"

"Promise." Garcia muttered first, still in awe and a little fear of this woman.

"Promise." Morgan said next, already making a mental note to look out for the kid. This lady was on par with his momma and that was something!

"Promise." A shaky Emily said as the image of a laughing Diana Reid holding a bloody chainsaw skipped through her head.

"You have my word." Rossi told her, openly impressed with this woman. Pity she was ill; she would have made a great interrogator.

"Promise." JJ vowed, thinking of her own son. Henry was still only a baby but as one mother to another, she could understand where Diana was coming from.

"Understood." Hotch said, sounding like his old self but his complexion was still pale. Suddenly, all he wanted was to head back home and hold his son.

"Good!" She said, her mood changing completely. The smile on her face so similar to the one Reid had that it made it obvious they were of the same blood. "It's nice to know Spence has such lovely friends." Diana told them in a light voice.

Before any of them could reply, a haggard voice was heard in the hall and they all turned to see a slightly rumpled Reid stumble through the doorway with a pair of pink fluffy slippers held tightly in one hand.

"Really mom," He started in exasperation as he came near. "You couldn't tell me you put them in the ceiling boards? I thought I was going crazy when I couldn't find them. When I did, I had the fight off a huge spider that had declared them its home. Do you know how hard it is to fight a spider when you're standing on a wobbly chair and half of you is stuck in a small space? I hope you're happy; I almost died for you today. All for the sake of some slippers." He muttered darkly; making a disgusted face as he pulled a cobweb out of his hair.

"I'm sorry, I completely forgot I put them there. The government was coming for them so I had to hide them." She explained in an urgent voice.

"Mom, why would the government want your slippers?" He said in a voice that indicated he had asked this several times in the past.

"The government wants anything they can get; it's already got you, the thing I like best after you are my slippers." She reasoned.

"Nice to know I'm one grade above footwear." Spencer muttered dryly, handing the shoes over before looking at the agents. "Sorry it took so long, is everything alright?" He asked in concern when he noticed how pale they were.

"Fine, we're fine." Emily assured him in a rocky voice. "It was nice chatting with your mom but we have to get back to the hotel."

"Yep. Gotta finish up packing since we're heading out tomorrow." Morgan jumped, supporting her excuse, JJ and Garcia began nodding in earnest agreement.

"Ah, ok." Reid said slowly giving them a weird look, wondering what had happened when he was gone. "I didn't really get to talk much with my mom about the job offer-"

"Oh that's alright, Spencer. These fine young people have assured me that everything will be fine." Diana cut him off. "Go ahead and head out. The last thing I want is you spending all your time in here."

"Really?" Reid asked her incredulously, head swiveling back and forth between her and the agents. "I mean, you're really ok with this?"

"Yes! Their words have swayed me; I trust them to care of you!" Diana told him with a happy smile.

"Mom, I'm 24. I don't need to be taken care of. Besides that's not their job." He stuttered with an embarrassed blush on his face.

"Your mom probably needs to rest." Hotch cut in. "I think we've bothered her enough. Thank you for your time and understanding, Mrs. Reid." He said with the tilt of his head before heading towards the door.

"The pleasure's all mine." She told them before mouthing, " _Hurt him and die_." when Spencer had turned to look at Hotch's disappearing form. The others gave Diana a hasty goodbye before following their leader, Morgan and Garcia each grabbing one of Reid's arms and dragging him along.

"Hey! Wait! Uh-bye mom!" He yelled to her as he was dragged outside by some very petrified agents.

"Are you sure she didn't scare you guys?" He asked them. "Because if she threatened you, I'll make her apologize. She had no right to do that."

"No, no. she didn't threaten us." Garcia fibbed. "She was just so awe- inspiring we had to leave the room, right my lovelies?" she called to the others.

"Right." Emily sighed, leaning against the wall in relief, glad to be out of that room. That woman could probably make her mother cower!

"I'm not sure I believe you. . ." Reid trailed off.

"Kid, if we're going to be on the same team you need to start trusting us." Morgan told him seriously. "You might as well start now."

"All right, if you say so." Reid replied, still suspicious of their actions. "I guess this is where we part ways. Thank you for coming to meet here. It means a lot to me." He told him in a grateful tone.

"It was no problem and what do you mean part ways?" Garcia asked.

"I took the bus." He explained.

"So? We have two vehicles, both with more than enough room for your noodle frame to fit in." Morgan snorted. "Save your money and take the free ride."

"Besides, we need to help you start packing!" Garcia gushed as she grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the SUV's.

"Wait, what? Packing?" Reid asked her as he untangled his wrist from her grip.

"Well yeah." She said, confused about his reaction. "You can't go to Quantico with just the clothes on your back."

"Um, guys? I'm not sure if you realize this, but I'm not going with you guys tomorrow." He told the group seriously.

"What?" Penelope gasped as the others stood in shock at his statement. "But you said yes!"

"I said I would take the job offer, I never said I would join you right away. I still have a lease on my apartment and I can't just leave my job without at least a little notice. They deserve a two week notice. Not only that but I need to research some things: how much apartments are in Virginia; the cost of living; the best neighborhoods with the lowest crime rates and a plethora of other things." Then he took a deep breath and left them in disbelief.

"When I go to Virginia, I'm joining the Academy."


	8. Chapter 7: Heated Conversations in Parking Lots

"What?" Garcia shrieked, startling Reid out of his serious mood. He began to fear for his life when she latched onto his shoulders with the strength and ferocity of a tiger and began to shake him back and forth violently.

"No, no, no! Why are ruining my night, Spencer? I had plans for you! Plans!" She yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Y-you did?" He somehow managed to stutter out as she continued to jerk him around.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, changing tactics and began repeatedly hitting his forehead with the palm of her hand. "You were gonna be my buddy! While the others were out doing macho FBI stuff, we'd be in my office watching Youtube videos and eating gummy worms! We would talk about fashion trends and I fully intended-still do- to scam you into doing my taxes because God knows you'd do it better than any hired help and for no charge! But no! Instead, you want to delay our time together! Sweet man, why?" She ended dramatically.

While it was both humorous and slightly frightening to see the normally cheerful, slightly short woman full of color manhandle a slim, nerdy man over 6ft tall, Hotch felt he should intervene before Garcia scared the poor boy back into Stupid Mode.

"Garcia." The authority in that cold voice sent a chill down her spine and stopped her hand on its way to Reid's forehead. "Release him and back away slowly. Do not make me treat you like an unsub." Hotch threatened.

"Yes sir." She muttered, reluctantly withdrawing her hand away from the genius. She shot him a look that clearly said,  _This isn't over yet buster._

He was just glad she stopped hitting him. Those rings hurt!

"Reid." Hotch started, catching the young man's attention. "Are you sure you want to go to the Academy? You already have the qualifications to be a consultant; you don't need go beyond that if you don't want to."

It wasn't said out loud, but everyone could hear the Unit Chief's concern.  _I don't want an inexperienced agent getting themselves killed in the field._

"I understand sir." Reid said softly, staring hard at the ground before looking the man square in the eye, determination bright and clear. "But I'm still joining the Academy."

"C'mon, kid." Morgan groaned. "Just take the consultant position. You don't have to prove anything to us. Don't you get that we don't care if you carry a gun or not?"

"With all due respect  _Agent Morgan_ , I think it's you who doesn't 'get it.'" Reid snapped back sharply.

"Alright then," Morgan said softly after a moment. "Lay on it me; tell me how it is."

Reid blinked owlishly, unsure of what he should do. Normally, people responded similarly to what was presented to them; he had expected an equally angry retort so Morgan's gentle tone threw him off guard.

"My dream is to be a full-fledged profiler." Reid reminded them. "That means having the qualifications and authority to do things a consultant can't. I don't want to be confined to just one area; I want to be able to go with you on raids, to interview witnesses and interrogate suspects. Maybe not right off the bat." He assured them hastily. "I want to work up to that but mostly I want to be fully integrated onto this team— not just part way."

"That's very admirable." Rossi said, tilting his head slightly to the side. "But I'm concerned. The Academy is a twenty week program and it's not all in the classroom. I'm not saying you can't pass the physical part,but I have a feeling you're going be struggling." He continued on when he saw Reid's affronted expression. "No offense, but I've seen you walk into more walls and trip over more mounds air than any other person I know and I know a lot of people. That clumsiness is going to be tough to counteract. The instructors aren't going to be happy if you shoot somebody in the ass because you tripped and pulled the trigger." The man ended dryly as the image of Reid with watery puppy dog eyes looking at a screaming instructor ran through his head and he ended up hiding his laughter in the form of a coughing fit.

"I am aware of my weaknesses!" Reid squeaked, when he realized the group was either shuddering in fear or laughing at the thought of him with a gun. "I just need  _practice_." He huffed, emphasizing the last word.

"Can you fix accidentally shooting someone?" JJ muttered, causing Morgan to let out an undignified snort.

"Can you fix clumsy?" Emily teased with a sweet smile, making the others giggle, all unaware that the volcano, Mt. Reid, was about to erupt.

"I fixed stupid, didn't I?" He shot back.

"What? Oh no, it doesn't count if you're fakin' it man." Morgan protested.

"Why not?" Reid snapped back in an aggressive tone, not even sure what they were arguing about anymore but felt the need to continue on in righteous anger. The fact that they weren't taking him seriously was upsetting and it had been years since he allowed himself to show his displeasure in front of others. "I fooled you didn't I? Are you upset that someone as young as me was able to pull the wool over your elite team of profilers? Are you angry? Studies show that alpha males have a tendency to—"

"Whoa, Pretty Boy! Whoa!" Morgan held up his hands in a calming gesture, eyes wide when he realized how upset Reid was. "I'm sorry. No one here is trying to undermine you or thinks you can't do it. We were just teasing; nobody meant anything by it."

"Funny, some of kids at school said that when a teacher made them apologize for shoving me in a locker." Reid spat out, not ready to let it go. Immediately, the three teasers cringed together in guilt, kicking themselves for forgetting what Reid told them about his experiences at school. He wouldn’t know the difference between light and malicious teasing. Looking towards their boss, they found three glares that blatantly ordered them to fix their mistake.

"I should have just kept on pretending to be stupid, even after you guys found out." They heard Reid sigh, anger turning into an age old tiredness that suggested he had been down this road before; as if people stabbed him in back at their leisure and his own disappointment was just a normal way of life.

"And how long do you think you could keep that up?" Hotch cut in, dark eyes serious. He wouldn't be surprised if people had tried- and succeeded - in using Reid's genius for their own gain. As he mulled it over in his head, he realized that perhaps the bullies that had viciously beat up Reid weren't the only reason the boy decided to go undercover; it was probably to ward off people that wanted to mooch of him and then leave him in the dust.

An isolated twelve year old in high school with peers years older and literately no support system? He'd latch onto the first person to show him kindness without a second thought. And of course, after that person washed their hands of him, others would come flocking in to repeat the process. Some would feel guilty but others would relish in it, possibly even taking it to a  _sexual_ level, just to up the control level.

Hoth stopped the shudder coming up his back at the thought but the dread filled him up as he refocused on Reid. His thoughts were only possibilities of what might have happened and he had a feeling Reid wouldn't indulge any more than he already had. The things he had shared with the team were just the beginning but hopefully his trauma didn't reach as far as Hotch had concluded.

"For as long as needed." Reid replied to his question, head defiantly raised.

"So until you couldn't take it anymore and decided to kill yourself?" Hotch asked.

"What? I'm not suicidal! I never was— even with my mask!" Reid yelled, shocked at the question.

"No, you weren't, but that doesn't mean you weren't at a risk for it. You know psychology inside and out; you know how people are likely to react when they are trapped and see no way of escape. You know that loneliness, depression, and desperation can lead to irrational thinking. Now what's a person who feels like they're trapped going to think the only way out is when all other exits seem blocked?"

"Death." Reid answered softly, blank eyes staring at the ground. "Heh." His mouth twitched to form a miserable smile. "Maybe we should just call it quits now, before you have a crazy on your team."

"Spencer,” Hotch started. "I want you on my team in whatever way you're capable of. Morgan, Emily, and JJ were careless with their comments but they weren't aiming to hurt you. If you think you can become an agent then do it. But I need to know, do you think you're capable of taking a life?"

"What?" Reid gasped.

"If you're out in the field and we're facing a dangerous unsub that needs to be taken down, do you think you could take that shot?" Hotch asked harshly.

"Well, I would try to talk him down first." Reid stuttered, eyes frantically moving back and forth as the scenario conjured itself up in his mind.

"You already did that and he’s not listening to reason. Now he's about to kill another person. What are you going to do, Agent Reid?" Hotch continued on as Reid closed his eyes to visualize the situation better. "There's no time to think Agent Reid!" Hotch shouted, scaring the others. "I need an answer now!"

"I-I, I. . ." The nervous voice was accompanied by harshly knitted eyebrows.

"Agent Reid! Can you do this or not?" Hotch barked out like a boot camp sergeant.

"I aim for whatever opening I can get!" The boy finally shouted back, eyes flashing open.

"You're positive you can pull the trigger?" Hotch continued to push.

"Yes! If the unsub is about to take another life, then I'm prepared to take his." Reid answered, staring the Unit Chief in the eye. Hotch didn't say anything, just continued to stare back with an unreadable expression and Reid began to doubt that his answer was right.

"Good job, agent." Hotch finally said, cracking a small smile and Reid's shoulder sagged in relief.

"Does that mean I pass?" He asked hopefully, giving Hotch a head- on collusion with the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen on a grown man's face. Fortunately, Jack had somewhat over exhausted this technique at home so Aaron was able to ward off most of it.

"My personal test, yes. You still have to go through training though."

"Of course!" Reid nodded eagerly. "Everyone else has to do it- it wouldn't be fair if I was a given a free pass."

Ah. Suddenly, it dawned on everyone why Reid wanted to go through the Academy so badly. He wanted to go through training with other hopefuls so that when he graduates and gets assigned to the BAU (Hotch would make sure of this. He was prepared to bring out his best death stare to see it done), he would be able to defend himself from jealous rivals. No one would be able to say he had bought his way in. Not only that, but it would be the first time in a long time that he would be in the same age group as his peers. It would be a novel experience for sure.

"While I'm glad we have resolved this small problem." Rossi cut in, bringing attention to himself. "Perhaps the parking lot of a sanitarium wasn't the best place for this discussion; especially in the dark." The suave man pointed out, subtly pointing towards the door where a worried receptionist was looking out.

"Oh." Reid blushed. "She probably heard me yelling. Sorry."

"Nah. We're also loitering, so it's not all on you. 'Sides, you had a right to be mad." Morgan scratched the back of his head. "C'mon, let's get out of here and get some grub. I could eat a horse!" He grinned, grabbing one of Reid's arms and pulling him towards the SUVs.

"Oh, um, I don't know any places that sell horse meat. . ." Reid stuttered, making everyone stop and stare at him.

"Pretty Boy," Morgan started after a moment, making sure he had heard right. "It's just a saying. I don't really want to eat a horse."

Reid just stared at him for a moment before smirking and clicking his tongue.

"Gotcha." He chuckled and Morgan's mouth dropped.

"Oohhh, I knew you had a sense of humor in that big of brain of yours!" Garcia laughed.

"So where should we eat?" Emily asked, getting everyone back on task. "I saw a small Italian place on the way here."

"No, Italian’s good for romance, not so much for a group of friends. Let's get Chinese." JJ suggested but got several 'no's in return. "Fine." She rolled her eyes slightly for being out voted. "Where do you want to eat Spencer?"

"Um, you guys can just drop me off at my place." Reid replied quietly.

"You have gourmet food hiding in your cabinets?" Rossi asked with a raised brow. All the profilers on the team knew from the moment they entered Reid's kitchen yesterday morning that the kid wasn't one to go grocery shopping much.

For one, there were books blocking the fridge.

For another, there were books blocking the cabinets.

"I have ramen noodles. . . I think?" Reid mentally went over the list of foods he had bought a month ago. Noodles were among the things he bought as he thought over the list he had made.

" . . .No." Rossi deadpanned.

"What?"

"I'm willing to do a lot of things, but eating that crap is not one of them. We're eating out and you're coming with us. Now, since you know Vegas better than the rest of us combined, pick a place to eat."

"But—"

"Pick. Now." Rossi growled, cutting off Reid's attempt to decline a second time.

"Hal's Diner isn't too far away." Reid sighed, realizing he wasn't getting out of this.

"Hal's Diner? Never heard of them before." Emily commented.

"It's where I bought you guys dinner that one night." Reid told her with a small smile.

"Those delicious burgers?" Morgan's interest perked up.

"Yeah."

"Hell yes we're going there." Morgan opened the driver's side door before gesturing to the front passenger side as Garcia and Emily climbed in the back. "Hop in Reid, you're navigating."

"We'll follow you guys out." Hotch said as he got in the other SUV.

"Did you know that the phrase 'I could eat a horse' was originated from—" Reid began to ramble, closing his door and playing with his seat belt.

"Another time, Pretty Boy. Just buckle up and guide me to that wonderful place called Hal's."

Dinner had been a nice affair. They had all silently decided not to bring up any serious topics and focused on getting to know each other better. The night was filled with laughter as embarrassing stories were told, waitresses were flirted with by one Derek Morgan, and Reid ended up agreeing to see them off tomorrow at 7 sharp.

He felt a pang in his heart as he locked his door and tumbled down to the taxi he had called. These people had become very close to his heart in a very short amount of time. It hurt that he wouldn't see them in a while.

 _No, don't think like that. Garcia already promised to call as often as she could._ He told himself as he opened up the door and got in.

"McCarran Airport." He told the driver softly.

"You aren't planning are changing your mind the moment we leave, are you?" Emily teased him as they were getting ready to take off.

"Of course not! My lease is up in 6 weeks. I promise I'll be in Virginia and enrolled in the Academy before you know it."

"I'll keep you to that." She laughed before surprise attacking him with a hug which he returned awkwardly.

"Next time you see me, I'll be Agent Reid." He told Hotch as the man came up and shook his hand after Emily let go.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you." The ever serious man said with a hint of a smile. "Trust me Reid, you'll be in the BAU as soon as the paperwork pushes through."

"Can you really promise that?" Reid asked hesitantly. "What if they decide I'm better as a code breaker or filing papers in Archives?"

"Please, that'd be a waste of talent." Rossi snorted. "Even the bigwigs at Quantico aren't that stupid. With Aaron and me backing you, they won't have much of choice."

"Even if they did, I'd change the paperwork." Garcia giggled as she joined the conversation. Suddenly her eyes became big and bright and, like Emily, she trapped Reid in a hug before he knew what was happening.

"I can't believe I won't see for at least 6 weeks. That's too long." She sniffed.

"But we'll still talk." Reid tried to console her.

"Just hearing your voice on the phone won't be enough. If only I had the time to get you to buy a nice computer with a good webcam." She complained, as everyone recalled how she about had a heart attack last night when Reid admitted he didn't own a computer and listened to his music on a Walkman from the 90s.

"When you come to Virginia, you're coming into the 21st century. I'll make sure of it. And don't even think about getting rid of your 'yummy' clothes." She hissed in his ear, squeezing him like a boa constrictor. "I will be very displeased if you come only in nerd gear."

"What's wrong with being a nerd?" He whispered back in agitation.

"Nothing. You just look better in sexy clothes." Garcia replied, finally freeing him from her grip and heading onto the plane.

"Don't worry kid." Morgan chuckled, patting his shoulder. "I can't promise she won't maul you the moment you walk through the door when you get there, but she'll calm down. . .maybe."

"Thanks Morgan. That's so reassuring." Reid said sarcasm clear in his voice.

"Heh. You know she stuffed those banners you made for us in her bag, right?" He asked.

"What? Why? Those things are monstrosities!" Morgan laughed at Reid's incredulous expression.

"Well at least we know how the artist views his work." JJ joked as she came up and hugged him. "She said it was either the banners or you. Hotch told her you would suffocate in the suitcase no matter how many air pockets she cut out."

". . .I see." He finally replied, even though he really didn't see why Garcia wanted to stick him in a suitcase. Didn't she know what kind of damage could be done to the body when stuck in an enclosed space for a long period of time?

Hotch looked up to see the pilot waving from the open door. The man gave him the signal telling him the plane was ready for takeoff. Giving him a curt nod, Hotch turned to his team. "It's time to go." He said simply. "I'll be seeing you soon Reid. Good luck in training."

"Thank you, sir."

"Yeah, let us know if there are any jerks in your class. We'll take care of them." Emily said, cracking her knuckles.

"Ha, I think I can handle it." Reid laughed nervously.

"Don't forget, when you come you're going to meet my son." JJ reminded him.

"I'm telling you, small children and animals think I'm the antichrist." He complained.

"Henry won't." She told him with a sweet smile.

"Man, I can't wait to get you on the team!" Morgan grinned.

"Really?"

"Yeah, our paperwork will be done and filed at super speed!"

". . .I'm not doing your paper work Morgan." Reid told him dryly.

"Heh. You'll be so bored after finishing your own, you won't be able to resist." The dark skinned man teased.

"I'm sure I'll be able to restrain myself." Reid rolled his eyes but a smile played at his lips.

"Remember, you're a shoe-in. They won't put you anywhere else." Rossi reassured him.

"I hope you're right."

"Reid, trust me, I'm always right." At that statement, Reid had to stop his laughter as Morgan mouthed, ' _No he's not._ ' from behind the seasoned profiler.

He waved as they all got on the plane and the door shut behind them. As the jet engines were put into gear, he covered his ears as the sound became louder and the wind picked up. Soon, the jet was up in sky, flying into the sun that was rising in the East.

He stayed until he couldn't see them anymore.

Then, he silently wiped away the tears flowing down his cheeks.


	9. Chapter 8: Fear the Wrath of the Blond One

The alarm blared loudly in the small bedroom, waking up the slumbering man. Groaning, he listlessly moved his hand out from under the mound of covers to shut it off. Brown eyes tried to blink out the grogginess as he slowly sat up and stared blankly at his mattress. After a few moments, he heaved a heavy sigh and stumbled his way into the bathroom.

"Back to work." He groaned to himself under the hot spray in his shower. The sound of the pitter-patter of water was all that was heard before his sleepy brain finally woke up and reminded him just how important that was.

"Oh no. Back to work." He banged his head slightly against the wall. Stepping back into his bedroom after he was done, Reid felt a flight of nervousness hit him hard.

"How, exactly, do I explain the situation to them?" He mused out loud as he pulled on a pair of jeans. Considering his history with schizophrenia, he had been terrified the first time he caught himself talking out loud to himself. Time and research had reassured him that many people had conversations with themselves and it was only a point to worry if voices began talking back. "Maybe just use blunt terms? No." He shook his head as he buttoned up his shirt. "Saying, 'Hi, remember how you all think I'm stupid personified? Well, it turns out that I'm actually a genius that became scared and frazzled after being picked on one too many times and decided to fake it.' Yeah," He snorted, going back into the bathroom to fix his hair. "They'll definitely buy that. They'd be laughing so hard at the mere thought, I wouldn't be able to prove it to them over the laughter and tears. Or they'd just assume I'd hit my head one too many times and make a room for me next to my mom."

Heading to his kitchen for a cup of coffee, his edginess over the topic increased as he waited for the coffee maker to finish up.

"Maybe if I slowly introduce the idea to them, one day at a time, it will be different. My clothes will definitely garner some attention but what if they think it's just a trend?" He questioned, before trying to console himself. "I mean, they either believe me or they don't. I'll be leaving in 5 weeks anyway; they deserve to know the truth but if they don't believe me then, oh well."

Unfortunately, his pep talk to himself died shortly as he was locking up his apartment.

"What if they  _do_  believe me? What if they're so angry they beat me up?" He fretted as he walked to the bus stop, holding tightly to his coffee. "What if Chief Marco decides to arrest me for, for. . .lying to police officers? Are the secretaries going to maul me? I heard that when women became really angry, they slap you right in the face! But that's probably just a stereotype, right?" He absentmindedly asked the bus driver as he paid his fare.

"I'm afraid not, sonny." The old man shook his head sadly. "Sometimes they even throw water on you if you truly insult them." He informed the young man. "It's never smart to disrespect a woman."

"Throw water?" Spencer gasped at the new information. "Cold or hot?"

"Um, cold. It's usually from their drinks. Why? Do you prefer scalding water?" The old man asked, quirking a bushy eyebrow.

"Well, lukewarm actually, but yes! Pouring cold water on someone can make them go into shock! Do you think they would do that to me?" The younger fretted.

"I'm not even sure what you're talking about. Is it just one woman?" The driver asked.

"No. Seven and about twenty men." Spencer told him and missed how the old grey brows shot up in surprise.

"How much water do you think they'll throw on me? Should I pre-book an ambulance?" Spencer asked desperately.

"Son," The driver started, "Every time you get on this bus, you're always chattering to yourself about one thing or another and working yourself up over nothing. Now, you don't look like the type to screw around with seven women and- twenty?- men. I'm not even sure how you can manage that. But I'd be more worried about the men ripping out your insides." The bus driver cautioned, his mind automatically thinking the situation had to do with cheating several people on their lovers.

"Ah, you have a point. Men are more violent. So, I guess I'm pre-booking an ambulance." The boy said, cursing himself silently for not owning a cell phone. At times like this it was best to issue a warning to unsuspecting EMTs.

"Son, go sit down. You're gonna make me late for my stops."

Twenty minutes later, Reid was staring at the doors of his workplace as the bus drove off, leaving him stranded. Maybe he should have called off today. No, he decided. It was time to face the music. Heaving a big breath, he gathered all his courage and walked in.

"Hey Spencer." One of the girls greeted happily as he signed in.

"Hi!" He mentally groaned in horror when he realized he had automatically adopted a higher, ditsier voice.

"Love your outfit." She told him, gathering some papers. "On mark as usual." She gave him a wink before going back to her desk, leaving him shell-shocked.

 _What?_ He thought to himself in confusion as he self-consciously sat down.  _Why did she compliment my outfit? Unless sweaters and cardigans came in overnight- wait, what am I wearing?_ He wondered, realizing he hadn't really taken it into account this morning, to occupied expecting to be burned at the stake the moment he came to work. Looking down, his jaw dropped and he almost let out a pitiful moan.

He had unconsciously picked out one his 'pretty' outfits. Since he always made sure to wear them to work he didn't think twice about it this morning- he had been too distracted with his thoughts.

 _And that greeting I gave. Einstein's theories, I think I'm a living example of Pavlov's Classical Conditioning. I'm so used to getting those happy greetings, I've subconsciously learned to give an equally happy greeting back. I suppose I wanted to be accepted so badly, I took smiles directed my way as a 'rewards' of some sort. Pathetic, Spencer, absolutely pathetic._ The young man scolded himself, not realizing he was beginning to growl a little.

"Reid!" The sharp tone jolted him and he spun around to find Marco staring at him.

"You alright? You've just been sitting there for 10 minutes growling at your desk." The man asked in concern.

"Oh! Sorry! I'm just a little upset because, I was just thinking, and, are cupcakes made in actual cups?" Spencer really wished he could shut up but he couldn't stop the flow of nonsense coming from his mouth. "Because that would be really—"

"Reid, just get to work. You're not getting paid to wonder about the origins of cupcakes." Marco sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Yes sir!" Reid chirped back and scuttled to the Archives to pick up some files.

 _Tomorrow._ He decided.  _I'll do it tomorrow._

The next day came and he couldn't do it.

The day after came and, again, he couldn't do it.

' _What do you mean you haven't told them?'_ Penelope scolded him that night over the phone when he realized he was stuck in a proverbial rut of fear and needed someone to help him out.

"I don't know how! The whole thing seems preposterous! They'll think I'm joking! Or worse, they'll believe me and hate me for it." He complained.

' _Sugar,'_ Her voice took on a comforting tone and it helped remind him that he wasn't alone.  _'That's a risk you're going to have to take. If they don't accept you then it's their loss.'_

Her words warmed his heart and that night he went to bed thinking he could do it, but come morning the same vicious cycle of dark thoughts had come back.

The fear of their reaction left him petrified and he was beginning to think maybe he should just send them a letter explaining things after he moved to Quantico. He'd dismissed it at first because it was cowardly but it was sounding better and better each day. However, he was slowly- and subtly- getting the office use to seeing him in 'nerd gear', as Garcia dubbed it. He had begun combining some of his work pants with his more 'fashionable' sweaters. Nobody said anything and he had even gotten a few compliments. It was a failed attempt at getting them to look underneath his persona. They never had reason to suspect he was lying and changing his wardrobe slightly wasn't going to be an indicator. For all they knew he was changing with the seasons.

He was beginning to wonder if he would ever gather up the courage to tell them.

It took three weeks.

"Hey." Someone cleared their voice in a rough, gurgling tone. Looking up from his work while absentmindedly pushing up his glasses (he had run out of contacts and it seemed glasses from the 60s were in trend). It was then that he noticed the whole place had gone quiet and tense. He knew something was going on, he just didn't know what until he saw three officers he hadn't seen in a while standing at his desk.

Jones, Patrick and Hasting all sullenly stood in front of him looking for all the world like they were being forced to apologize.

As it turns out, that's exactly why they looked like that.

"Reid," Chief Marco started in a calm voice that let everyone know the man was still upset with three officers. "These men have something to say to you, don't you guys?"

Patrick and Hasting were quick in getting it over with and they sounded more sincere than Reid expected. That in itself was a surprise but he had been given too many false apologies in the past to trust them completely.

Jones was a different story.

"Reid." The man started, just barely able to keep the bite out of his tone. Looking at his eyes, Reid knew he was still angry: angry at being suspended, at being forced to take an anger management class, but most importantly, angry that he had to apologize to Reid. Doing it in front of everyone just made it that much more humiliating. "I would like to take a moment to apologize for my appalling actions towards you. It was unfair and completely uncalled for. I treated you terribly and encouraged others to as well. You did nothing to deserve that treatment."

 _Wow,_  Spencer thought.  _Who forced you to write that and how long did it take?_  He almost asked but managed to hold it in.

"Can you accept not just my apology but theirs as well?" Jones ended, referring to Hasting and Patrick.

"Hmmm." Reid hummed and let loose a sweet smile. Eager expressions appeared on the faces of Hasting and Patrick when they saw a smile grace his face. He was about to say yes and let bygones be bygones but then he watched as Jones rolled his eyes in annoyance when the Chief briefly turned away to look at something.

Any other day, the action wouldn't have bothered him. But for some strange, unfathomable reason, it upset him today. Maybe it was because he had been showing more of his emotions around the BAU but, suddenly, he didn't feel like forgiving these three officers.

So he didn't.

"No." Was all he said, smile still plastered to his face. "Have a nice day." He told them before going back to work.

If he had bothered to look back up he would have seen the shocked looks that painted the faces of each and every person that had heard his cheerful decline. Never, in all the time that they had worked with him, had he not accepted an apology.

"But, but we apologized!" Hasting protested loudly.

"I know. I heard you." Spencer commented casually, still not looking up from the paper. Not being able to resist, he sneaked a peak to see their expressions out of the corner of his eye and had to hide the wicked grin that wanted to appear. Garcia had told him during one of their phone conversations that she thought he'd make a mighty and terrible troll. It was an internet term he hadn't quite grasped yet but something told him he was acting like one in this situation.

"You're not going to accept it?" Jones asked; eyes hard as ice. As if Reid was being unreasonable.

Suddenly, Reid's amusement at the situation left and all he felt was a burning anger. These men may not have been as vicious as his high school tormenters but they had left their fair share of bruises. On top of that, they're now mad at him because he won't take an apology that, quite honestly, wasn't even sincere?

Like a line of gun powder meeting a large case of kerosene, his anger met his three weeks of stress and they decided they should just blow everything up.

Very slowly, Reid removed his glasses and began cleaning them with the edge of his shirt.

"Why should I accept an apology you don't even mean?" It was asked rhetorically but one of them tried to answer anyway.

"Of course we mean—"

"You're bodies weren't tense." Reid snapped, cutting Patrick off with a hand full of words delivered in a sharp tone.

"What?"

"Your bodies." Reid repeated. "If you had actually felt bad about what you did, you'd be tense with nervousness and guilt. Instead, all of you are relaxed and at ease. Also, if you want to make an apology believable, why don't you try not rolling your eyes? It's a dead giveaway that you're annoyed. I could list more facts to support my claim but honestly, I'm too angry right now."

The whole office watched in disbelief as the normally sweet tempered man pulled himself up to his full height (which many realized for the first time, was quite tall) and marched right up to Jones.

"Now, you listen to me." He said, empathizing each word with a poke from his finger. "I realize you can't stand idiots. I don't know why, but I assume growing up you were surrounded by them and they left a bad impression. There's nothing wrong with disliking a person- it's virtually impossible to like everyone. However, that doesn't give you the right to belittle and talk down to them! Want to know something? I dislike people that think they have the right to beat up people they don't like! Oh, and by the way. remember the day you said the whole BAU had more thoughts in a day then I did my whole life? You said it three weeks, four days, and twenty-three minutes ago to the day. In fact, I can recall every awful insult, every bruise, and every sneer you've ever given me and I can do it either chronologically or alphabetically- take your pick."

"I—" Jones tried to get a word in but Reid wasn't done.

"Also, I feel it's imperative you should know that I am not stupid. Despite my actions, I actually graduated from high school when I was twelve. It's funny; apparently 6ft tall football players along with a plethora of others felt intimidated by a child that wasn't even up to their elbows. Well, what they lacked in intelligence they made up for in muscles and cruelty, so trust me, what you've done to me is nothing compared to them or my college 'buddies.'" Reid ended with a sick smile. He took a shuddering breath and continued on.

"For a very long time, I actually thought I deserved to be treated like that. Like it was some sort of payment for my intelligence. An atonement, if you will, for my abnormality. I would have done anything to be accepted by others-even dumbing myself down. It wasn't until very recently that I realized and accepted that I didn't deserve that treatment. I didn't deserve it then and I don't deserve it now! For having intelligence or for lacking it! So whatever your problem is, you better get over it because I am not your personal punching bag! If you have a problem with me, then use your words- not your fists." Reid growled, working himself up into such a frenzy that he realized he couldn't stay here. If he did, he'd probably attack Jones, not just for his actions but for all the abuse doled out to him by his old classmates.

"Chief." Reid started, turning his attention to his speechless boss. "You've treated me kindly the whole time I've been here and for that, I'm thankful. You didn't turn blind eye to people abusing their power and brought swift judgment on them. Even though I pretended to be hopelessly stupid, you still treated me normally. Working for you has been an honor, but consider this my two week notice. I'll be back for my reprimand tomorrow."

That said, he picked up his jacket, grabbed his messenger bag and left without another word.

The buses weren't running and Reid didn't have a cell phone to call a taxi, so he ended up walking home. It wasn't too terribly far from the police department .The walk was workout, yes, but certainly nothing that would kill him. The walk had actually helped him calm down and by the time he reached his apartment, he had reverted back to the silent panic that had become his normal state of emotions these past few weeks.

"What did I just do?" He muttered to himself repeatedly has he reached his door. "What am I going to do? What are they going to do to me tomorrow?" He gulped at the question. It wasn't one he wanted to know the answer to. "Maybe Garcia can send viruses to all the computers in the office and it will distract them from my spectacular mess up." He grinned slightly at the thought because he had a feeling she would do if he asked nicely. He would never ask though because he knew those computers had important information that helped with taking criminals off the street to making sure the department didn't go over budget.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to call her." He muttered as he dialed her number. "A second opinion on if I should leave now or face my punishment like a man would be helpful. She would kill me for not telling her anyway."

Somehow, he wasn't surprised that she picked up on the first ring.

' _Goddess of all things techy and awesome. How can I help you mortal of vast intelligence?'_

"They know." Was all he said in greeting because she would know what he was talking about.

' _What? That's great! How'd they take it? Did they make you their new leader?'_

"Garcia, it's a police department not a cult." He said in slight exasperation but with a smile all the same.

' _Hey, you were the one worried they'd burn like a witch. Medieval much my delicious Slim Jim? Seriously though, Sugar, did they take it all right?'_

"If you count too shocked to move because the guy they thought was the definition of idiot opened his mouth and said something intelligent then, yes, they took it smashingly. Garcia, I outed myself in a fit of rage in front of virtually everyone. I'm sure anyone who missed the show was filled in the moment they walked in the door."

' _Ok, hold up, a fit of rage? Lovely, take a moment and explain this to me. I think I'm missing some important pieces.'_

He wasn't keen on relieving his moment of the day, but Garcia seemed to be some other worldly being with magic, because –even though it was like pulling teeth- she finally got the whole story.

' _That jerk had it coming. You should have slugged him to all the way to China. The nerve of some people.'_

"Garcia! That's not the point! Focus! My untimely death is nearing." He reminded her.

' _Sweets, I know it looks bad, but it's not that bad. You're over reacting.'_

"I am not. My life is in danger." He insisted with a wild wave of his hand.

' _They're police officers, not a cult as you put it earlier. You will not die.'_

"Alright, I concede that death may not be an issue." He admitted after a moment. "But they'll still hate me and that's just as bad."

' _Hey, hey! Don't bog yourself down like that!'_ She scolded him over the phone.  _'I doubt they'll hate you. They may be confused and a little angry but they'll get over it. If they don't then it's their lost. I mean really, you're far too cute to stay mad at.'_

"Garcia. . ."

' _I speak nothing but truth!'_

They bantered back and forth like that for a while before he let her go. Virginia was three hours ahead of Nevada, so he knew she was still at work and he didn't want her to get in trouble. Her words had helped him calm down but he was still at a loss about what he should do tomorrow. He began to think over possible reactions he might receive from his coworkers before shaking himself. Those sort of anxious thoughts led him to near panic attacks. In truth, he couldn't predict what would happen tomorrow, so he decided to focus on some texts books he had bought. According to the government website, these were the required texts for the Academy and he decided to get a head start. Soon he was lost in a world of crime statistics and proper conduct of an agent. He only came out of his world of books when he heard someone knocking on his door.

Reid frowned in confusion as he slowly got up. Except for a few kids with fundraisers, nobody knocked his door. It couldn't be kids though because it was only lunch time so they'd still be in school. He considered not answering but his curiosity was piqued so he went ahead and opened his door.

When he saw who was on the other side, his heart dropped like a stone.

There stood Officer Jones grinding his foot back and forth on the concrete floor.

Reid wasn't sure why the other was at his apartment and he wasn't about to find out. He made a move to close the door, when Jones's eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait! I know you don't want to see me but, please, don't shut the door." The man's voice held a pleading tone which surprised Reid. He had never heard Jones sound like that.

"What do you want?" Reid asked him quietly, neither stepping out to meet him nor opening the door wider to let him in. The moment he sensed trouble, he was slamming his door and locking it.

"I," Jones hesitated for a moment. "I came to apologize- for real this time. You were right back at the department; I wasn't really sorry about what I did. I thought about what you said and I-" He stopped, a pained look coming across his face. "I was a bastard to you, there's no denying that. I didn't come here for forgiveness. Apologize? Yes, but I don't deserve to be forgiven and I don't expect it. But I also came for another reason: please don't quit because of how I and others treated you. If anyone deserves to go, it's me."

"What?" Reid asked blankly, his mind trying to figure out what Jones was talking about and also trying to stop being flabbergasted that the man had actually come to his house to apologize.

"You gave the Chief your two week notice." Jones reminded him. "I can only assume that's because of me."

"Huh? I'm not resigning because of you."

"You aren't?" The other asked in astonishment.

"No. I've been offered a better job." Reid hedged out but didn't elaborate. While Jones coming to apologize to him was a respectable action, it did not erase the memories of what he did to him.

"Where?" Jones asked in a friendly tone that had never been directed towards Reid before.

There was a small space of silence as Reid looked away, uncomfortable with the situation.

"Sorry." Jones apologized. "I don't really need to know that do I?"

"No, you don't." Reid agreed softly. "But there is something I need to know."

"What?"

"How mad are they?" Reid asked, referring to the people back at the office.

"Some people are mad but most aren't." Jones said, scratching the back of his head. "Shocked and little hurt, but they understood why you did it."

"They do?" Reid asked, brown eyes widening in surprise.

"Yeah. You kinda blurted it out when you gave me that tongue lashing." Jones reminded him, making Reid wince in remembrance that he did yell out his reasons and past for the entire world to hear.

"I understand why you did it." Jones said suddenly.

"Do you now?" Reid muttered somewhat sardonically under his breath.

"Yes." Jones replied seriously. He looked like he had come to an important decision about something because he suddenly squared his shoulders and Reid's hand twitched against the door, ready to slam it shut at the first sign of danger.

"What I'm about to tell you, I haven't told anyone before." Jones confessed.

 _Is that supposed to make me trust you?_ Reid wondered.

"I grew up in the poor part of Vegas." Jones told Reid, his face clearly showing the genius that the man thought it was a shameful secret of some sorts. "We never had much. My parents worked hard and we almost got up to middle class but then my dad died and mom could only do so much with the earnings of a waitress. I used to be so jealous when I saw kids my age dressed real nice playing with fancy toys. I can't say I didn't want those toys but what I was really focused on was how happy their parents looked. At the park, out at a restaurant, shopping for whatever, they were always smiling, like there were no cares in the world. Meanwhile, my mom was coming home at one or two in the morning after working as many hours as she could. She was always so bone tired and stressed. She kept a strong face for me after dad died but I could hear her crying at night. She was unhappy, so I decided I would become really rich so she would never have to work again." He gave a bitter chuckle. "I was seven. Talk about being a dreamer, yeah?" He continued on before Reid could say anything.

"She died when I was fifteen. Mugged and stabbed by some bastard. Joke was on him though- she only had two dollars on her. She died for two dollars." He snorted. "Can't get much cheaper than that. But like I said, I was fifteen. I managed to get a neighbor to convince the social worker assigned to me that he was my cousin and I was staying with his family. Like hell was I going into foster care. I guess she bought it or she didn't really care because she never came back for a second visit. At the time, I was so upset about my mom's murder, I began to study to become a lawyer so I could persecute and put away as many evil people as I could and get rich doing it. Turns out I was actually good at it with my zeal so by the time graduation came, I had a full ride to one of the best law schools in the state." He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and kept on talking.

"It was awful. The classes I shot through with ease, but my classmates . . . I couldn't stand them. They were all from rich families; that school was probably just a small vacation for most of them. Some survival instinct triggered in me and I knew I had to blend in or I'd be eaten alive. I actually did well for a while but the more I became friends with them, the more disgusted I became. They were all so apathetic to what they couldn't understand. I can't tell you how many times this one kid whined about how horrible poor people were and that he wished someone would 'wipe their lazy asses off the face of the earth.' It was ironic because this guy copied off my exams to pass his first semester."

"It ended up striking me all at once that these future lawyers didn't care about their clients. All they cared about was themselves. And they were stupid. Sure they knew how to look pretty but some of the things that came out of their mouths." Jones shook his head and Reid finally understood why the man had hated him on sight.

Nice clothing, pretty face, and says stupid things= rich, stupid person.

"I dropped out by my second semester. Decided I didn't want to be rich or be a lawyer anymore. I still wanted to see criminals brought to justice so I ended up going to the Police Academy. Now you know about my shit-out-of-luck life that I'm sure sounds like every other sob story out there. Now you know why I didn't like you. I thought you were some rich kid trying blend in with the 'common' folk. I realize I was wrong to judge you like that but at least now I hope you can understand why I did."

Of course Spencer could understand. He knows not every football player out there is a jerk but he still shies away from men in football jerseys. Just in case.

"Er," Jones coughed awkwardly and looked at his watch. "My lunch is almost up. I know you haven't forgiven me but if you ever need a favor, let me know. It's the least I can do. Um, I guess I'll see you at work then."

 _Favor?_ Reid thought as he saw the man shuffle away.  _But there isn't anything I want from you. There's nothing you can possibly do- wait._ Reid's thoughts took a wild turn.  _There might be something._

"Jones!" At the call of his name, the young man stopped and turned his head to see Reid calling out to him.

"Telling me I can call in a favor from you does not make us good." Reid started and continued on when he saw Jones open his mouth. "But it's a starting place."

Jones wondered what was going on in the other's head and shivered a little when the genius aimed a bright smile at him.

"How good are you with firearms?"

* * *

 

"I see. So that's how it is." Chief Marco grumbled as Reid squirmed in his chair. He had come in bright and early that day dressed in a tweed sweater and khaki pants with his glasses on and marched right into the Chief's office to receive a chewing out for his actions yesterday. Expecting a raging boss, he was surprised when the man silently put away his paperwork and asked him to explain why he was leaving. Jones may not have deserved to know but Chief Marco did.

"You really helped crack that case when the feds were here?" he asked after Reid finished his story.

"Yes." Reid blushed. "I was so excited when it all clicked in my head that I couldn't stop myself." He rubbed his hands together. "Also, I didn't mean to lie to anyone. It's just, I had been acting like that for so long I forgot. . ."  _How to be myself in front of others._

"Reid, you don't need to explain. Everyone has a mask. Yours happened to be more intense than most but it's still the same concept. You were protecting yourself. It's as simple as that."

"Thank you for understanding, sir." Reid said, feeling touched at the man's words.

"So you got invited into the BAU? Quite a step up from filing evidence." Marco commented with a chuckle.

"I still have to go through the Academy but I'll be there soon."

"The Academy?" Marco whistled. "Heard that was one tough school. You think you can handle it?"

"Oh. I already have a plan. If my statistics and timing are right, it should work out relatively well." Reid told him with a happy smile that told Marco he didn't want to know.

"As long as you're prepared, all I can say is good luck." He stuck out his beefy hand for Reid to shake. "Good luck and if you don't make it, you're always welcomed back here."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." Reid squeaked as his hand was crushed and his arm practically ripped off by the Chief's enthusiastic handshake.

He left the office feeling a little lighter. Looking around though, his mood dampened when he realized he was garnering quite a few looks. Some were just curious but others were out right angry. Jones said some people were angry with him. Some people can't stand idiots, others can't stand liars.

 _As longs as no one tries to hurt me, I think I can live with the looks._ He had to admit it hurt to be getting such looks from people he thought were his friends but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't expecting it.

The next two weeks would probably just be him working at his desk alone. He had no intention of bothering anyone and he figured they didn't want anything to do with him.

So he was surprised when a feminine hand appeared over the paperwork he was looking at. Turning his head he saw Clara standing there with the other secretaries not far behind her.

"Is it true? Are you really leaving?" She asked softly.

"Yes." He said but quickly continued on when he saw them begin to glare at Jones, Patrick and Hasting. "But it's because I was offered another job."

"Oh." Clara blinked in surprise at the news before giving him a smile. "A congratulations is in order then! Let's celebrate after work!"

"Um, that's not necessary." Reid mumbled, embarrassed.

"Of course it is!" Another secretary spoke up. "You're our friend and this is good news! Of course we're going to treat you out."

"I- we're still friends?" He asked in a hopeful tone that broke their hearts.

"Silly boy." Clara chided, ruffling his hair. "Did you think we only liked you because of your fashion tips?"

_Yes._

"Of course not!" She scoffed, refuting his silent answer. "You're our friend because you're kind, caring and bunch of other great things all wrapped up in a tall, skinny package. You always cheer us up when we're down and you’ve never failed to put a smile on our faces. Yeah, it sucks you don't look near as fabulous." She and the others snickered at his blush. "But you're still pretty damn adorable."

"You guys aren't mad?"

"Mad? After you put Jones and his goons in place yesterday? I think not." As one, all the ladies began to giggle mischievously. "I mean, we were surprised and a little hurt but Spencer," Clara bent down and whispered in his ear: "All you have to do is give us the names of those awful classmates you had. The girls and I can egg their houses when they're out and make sure their mail boxes are removed permanently with the help of some baseball bats."

"What? Don't do that!" He yelped, surprised at her suggestion. "That's so juvenile. Are you sure you're 30 and not 15?" He teased.

"Hey! I make look and act like a lady now, but I was known as Colossal Clara during my high school days. I was the girl kids paid to beat up bullies." She then began to sing under her breath. "Here comes Clara of colossal power, better move before she sends you to the slammer."

"They gave you a theme song?" Reid asked incredulously.

"I had groupies." She shrugged.

"Well, still. I'd rather you not go to jail for vandalizing property. Especially for my sake."

"Bah!" She waved a dismissive hand. "I may be a little rusty but I wouldn't get caught; even if I did, I know all the officers here. I think me and the girls would be alright. But, if you really don't want us to-"

"I don't." Reid interjected.

"Then I guess we won't. Miss Garcia's probably already started avenging you anyway." She said, making him choke on spit.

"You talk to Garcia?"

"Yes and since she declared how much she loved you the three days she was here, there's no doubt she has a list of names. I'll have to ask her how it's going." Clara mused.

"I don't want to know." Reid muttered. The thought of his bullies getting their just deserts was nice but he'd rather just forget they existed all together.

That night the secretaries dragged him to some club where they tried to fill him to the gills with fruity drinks filled with alcohol. The club scene was never one he was comfortable with and he was conscious of the thought that'd they'd have to go to work tomorrow so while he took sips of the drinks offered to him, he stuck with old fashion soda.

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to get out of dancing.

It must have been a sight for all the men looking for some game to see a skinny nerd with no rhythm being surrounded by seven beautiful women on the dance floor.

That night he went home with mussed hair, rumpled sweaty clothes, and a big grin on his face despite how unkempt he must have looked. One of his neighbors was outside smoking and actually dropped his cigarette at the sight.

"Wow. Fun night?" He asked, referring to all the glitter that had been thrown in Reid's hair and stuck to his clothes as well as the bright red imprints of lips smudged on his cheeks and forehead.

"Really fun night." Reid replied with a laugh, completely unaware that his neighbor thought he had hooked up with more than one woman.

"Huh." The man said to himself, stomping out his cigarette after Reid had shut his door. "Guy's got skills."


	10. Chapter 9: The Devil Loves Ice Cream

The cold wind bit at his face, making him grimace as he stepped off the plane with other passengers milling around him.

"Virginia's colder than I thought." Reid muttered to himself, as he dragged his suitcase over to the check-in counter. He had only brought a carry-on bag with him while the rest would be shipped to him as soon as he found a good apartment. Thanks to some nifty research on the internet he already had a few in mind but he wasn't about to rush into anything.

Unfortunately his flight had been filled to capacity and looking around at all the people shuffling into the check-in lines, he felt it was safe to assume his wasn't the only flight.

' _Oh well.'_ He thought with a small shrug as he waited.  _'It's not like I have anything pressing to do at the moment. Hmm, I should probably phone a taxi when I'm done here. Airports still have payphones, right?'_  He wondered as he mechanically handed over his ticket for the attendant to check.

"Here you go sir."

' _Surely payphones haven't been rendered obsolete yet, right?'_

"Sir?"

' _I mean, not everybody has cell phones. It wouldn't be right to leave those of us stuck in the 90s stranded at airports.'_

"Hey buddy! Move it already! You're holding up the line!" A gruff voice from behind startled him from his thoughts. Refocusing on real life, he was horrified to realize that the attendant had been holding out his ticket stub and receipt for him to take.

"Sorry!" He muttered, embarrassed as he took the papers and headed to the main lobby. As quickly as the embarrassment came, it passed as he returned to his current predicament of getting into contact with a taxi service.

The moment he made it to the main lobby, his eyes darted around in desperate search for a payphone and came across something much more . . . shiny.

The words, ' _VEGAS BABY- LOOK OVER HERE SWEET MAN'_  made in bright silver glitter stood out from the hideous highlighter pink poster board and made his eyes hurt just looking at it. At the same time, it made him smile to see Garcia waving it around in a spastic motion, unaware of the strange looks she was receiving as she chatted with an exasperated but equally amused Morgan. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but a quick calculation of probability conducted in his head concluded it had to do with taking off articles of clothing.

"I'm telling you Chocolate Thunder, just flash your abs for, like, 5 hours and we should be good." He heard her say as he stepped closer.

"Baby Girl, what makes you think me showing the world my sculpted abs would get Reid here any faster? Is my mama trying to get in some fan service?" The dark skinned agent teased back.

"Bah! I have Photoshop for that! I just thought that if you did, Reid would be here in no time to lecture you about proper public manners."

"Actually, there's not an official rule book dictating the proper conduct of how one should act in public." Reid broke in. "Well, at least there's not a standardized one for the whole U.S due to different culture clashes and—" His lecture was cut off by a squeal and strong arms bringing him into a crushing hug.

"Oomph! Gah, it's nice to see you too, Garcia." Reid croaked out has his bones were crushed. "But could you please let go? While you're at it, you should probably throw that sign away; it's almost bad as my banners."

"Told you." Morgan muttered as Garcia released Reid from her death hug.

"Hey!" She pouted as she gave him a small slap on the shoulder. "Don't diss the Tech's Goddess's creativity! And you!" She turned back and pointed an accusing finger at Reid. "What is this?"

"What's what?" He asked, confused and turned to see if there was something behind him.

"This!" She tugged him back around and gestured to his whole body. "I thought we discussed this; you cannot keep wearing nerd clothes all the time!"

"That's not fair!" He countered back, having already prepared for this argument on the plane ride over. "I was stuck on a plane for 6 hours! You know how uncomfortable it is to wear tight jeans for a long period of time with little movement? Well I do and it's not fun! So excuse me for wanting to be as comfortable as possible as I boarded onto a plane filled with young children and people with bad hygiene." He snapped back before blinking as something occurred to him. "By the way, why are you guys here? I didn't tell you when my flight was."

"Yes, I know." Garcia scowled at him. "I had to look it up. Thanks for making me commit a highly illegal act that could have resulted in prison time." Penelope told him in a way that made it apparent she was willing to forgive his bad fashion but not his inability to tell her things like when his flight was leaving.

"Nobody made you do it." He implored.

"The moment I realized you told me you were coming but not when, I had no choice. If you didn't have such a cute face, I'd ruin your credit like nothing else." She threatened.

"Go ahead. I have a hard copy of everything and copies of those copies just in case. It's one of the main reasons I prefer paper to computers." He told her sweetly.

"Blast! Foiled again." She grumbled dramatically.

"Alright you two, break it up. Don't make me arrest you for disturbing the peace." Morgan finally broke in after sitting on the sidelines and listening to them bicker.

"Mmmm, you can arrest me any day, officer. Got handcuffs?" Garcia purred, making Reid choke on his spit at the suggestive comment.

"I'll let you go today because I'm nice." Morgan said with a cheesy wink that made Reid groan. "And what are you groaning at? C'mon, it's almost lunch time and I'm starving."

"Alright. Oh, um, can I borrow your phone to call a taxi? I don't see any payphones and I really need to- what? What is it?" Reid asked nervously when he saw Morgan and Garcia exchange exasperated looks.

"Y'know, for a genius, you're a little on the thick side when it comes to social interactions." Morgan told him bluntly with a fond smile, making the younger flush in embarrassment.

"I wasn't invited to social things until I went dumb." Reid muttered. "What am I doing wrong now?"

"Seriously?" Morgan arched and eyebrow and Garcia giggled at Reid's dumbfounded look as keys were dangled in his face. "You're coming with us, Pretty Boy." Morgan grinned.

"Oh! Um, no, you don't have to that! I wouldn't want to waste your time—"

"Ok, stop. Just shut up and listen to me, alright?" Morgan said in a firm voice. Reid opened his mouth to say something but shut it and just nodded meekly when he saw Garcia was also giving him the evil eye.

"First off, we came to pick you up. What, you think me and Garcia just go to airports and wave around banners for no reason? The only way we'd be wasting our time is if you do take a taxi, cuz that kind of defeats the point of us picking you up. With me so far? Good. Secondly, we're your friends, man. You don't have to act and be polite around us when it comes to stuff like this. Friends pick each other up all the time." It did not escape Reid's notice Morgan meant that literately and figuratively. "Hell, sometimes Garcia calls and demands I pick her up for work." Morgan ended with a good natured laugh.

"But isn't that a little . . . rude?" Reid asked timidly, somewhat afraid Garcia would take offence but still willing to take the risk.

"Oh, Sugar, that's the best part about having friends!" Garcia chuckled as she put an arm around his shoulder and all three began walking. "With friends, you can be as rude and demanding as you want! Well, maybe not  _all_  the time. Sorta hard to imagine someone like that having friends, but you never know. Point is, friends help each other out when they need it. C'mon, surely one of your teachers told you that somewhere down the line?"

"My teachers were more concerned with how well I was doing academically. Those that didn't care ignored me and others, well, they didn't like the fact I was more versed in their subject than they were." Reid admitted, unaware he was about to make several retired teachers have severe financial woes in the near future.

"Oh? What're their names?" Garcia asked a little too brightly with a tight grin. "I'd really like to hear about the people that helped shape you."

"Well, Mrs. Jennings was my biology teacher freshman year. . ." He began to ramble on about all his past teachers in chronological order, only stopping when he realized he had somehow ended up in the backseat of a SUV that was currently turning into a restaurant he didn't recognize.

"I can't believe I got talked into getting into a strange vehicle and I was the one doing the talking." He muttered, slapping his forehead.

"Yup, easiest kidnapping I've ever done." Morgan grinned as he parked the car. "Let's eat 'till we can't eat no more!" He roared in excitement and Garcia gave a wild 'whoop!' as the pair shot out of the car and were halfway to the entrance by the time Reid had untangled himself from his seat belt.

"Wait!" He called out desperately and blinked when they both stopped dead and turned to look at him. "My bank account will be frozen for a few days until they settle everything with the moving people so I'll just wait in the car, ok?"

"Reid," Morgan called out when he realized that the genius was serious. "I swear, if you get back in that car, I will handcuff you and drag you inside. I'm sure Garcia wouldn't mind spoon feeding you." He threatened, feeling slightly bad when a particularly evil gleam entered the bubbly blonde's eyes but dammit, that skinny boy was getting fed one way or another!

For all his lack of social understanding, Reid did know how to survive and right now his instincts were telling him to just go with the flow because handcuffs didn't sound like fun nor did getting spoon fed.

"But I have no money." He repeated as he reached them. "How am I supposed to pay—" He cut himself off as Garcia took a tight hold on his upper arm and proceeded to drag him inside.

"Morgan's paying, aren't you handsome?" She asked sweetly and batted her eyelashes at him as the three stood in the small waiting area for a hostess to come and seat them.

"It's a date." He said with a naughty grin.

"A threesome? Awesome." Garcia purred just as their hostess came up to them.

"Uh, this way please." The young woman mumbled as Reid blushed bright red and Garcia and Morgan had to bite their inner cheeks to stop from laughing out loud.

Because that'd be totally inappropriate.

"I'll have your waiter here as soon as possible." The hostess told them and rushed out before Reid could say anything. The moment she left, all composure was lost on the part of the two FBI employees while Reid tried to shush them.

"Guys be quiet! They already think we're in a strange polygenic relationship with some exhibitionist tendencies. Annoying the other patrons with loud noises won't help us!" He tried to scold them and failed miserably.

"Lighten up, man. Who cares what some hostess thinks of us? $50 says she'll tell the waiter to be careful!" He cracked and both him and Garcia were once again on a roll.

"I'm embarrassed to be seen in public with you two." Reid muttered as he tried in vain to hide his face behind his menu.

"Liar." Garcia told him with a smile as she wiped away a stray tear. "We're awesome. Just admit it."

"Never."

"Personally, I think we'd make an amazing threesome."

"In your dreams, Baby Girl. In your dreams."

"A-are you ready to order?" The group turned to see a young man with tense shoulders looking cautiously at them.

' _She definitely told him.'_  The three thought together. After giving their orders, they watched as he practically ran to the kitchen.

"Too bad no one took your bet." Garcia winked at Morgan who just snorted.

"It sounds like a fool's bet but I know a few unsubs that would have taken it." The man muttered causing something to click in Reid's head.

"Hey, it's 12 o' clock." He told them and watched as both gained confused looks.

"Yeah, it's lunchtime. Something wrong?" Morgan asked.

"It's Tuesday." Reid told them, adding to the confusion.

"We're aware. We're not geniuses, but we know our days of the week just like everyone else that made it out of kindergarten." Garcia assured him.

"Then shouldn't you be at work?" Reid asked suspiciously, making the light bulb go off in their heads.

"Called in sick." Garcia told him with a fake cough added at the end.

"We don't have a case and my dog was throwing up, so I took a personal day." Morgan commented lightly.

"Really?" Reid asked suspiciously.

"Yup. True, he was throwing dirt up in the air with his paws but I gave 'em the keywords over the phone so they understood the situation." He snickered.

"That's terrible! You could get in trouble for that!" Reid hissed at them.

"Kid, relax. It's not like we do this every other day. Just this once isn't going to get us fired. By the way, where are you staying tonight?" The man asked, skillfully changing the subject to avoid a lecture on work attendance.

"I was going to get a hotel, no big deal." Reid shrugged.

"But you said your account was frozen." Morgan pointed out.

"Oh, I made sure to withdraw enough cash to tide me over until that cleared up and I found an apartment I like but I won't need one for a while since all cadets stay in the dorms. I can hold out for a week." He told them nonchalantly, thanking the waiter who had come back with their food.

Taking his fork in hand, he began to tell them about some of the places he found on the internet that looked good in between bites. It was only after a few minutes into it that he realized he wasn't receiving any responses. Cursing himself mentally for rambling, he looked up from his food to the two sitting across from him, both giving him the same look that he couldn't quite decipher.

"Sorry." He hastily apologized. "You don't have to listen to me talk your ears off about stuff like that. A simple, 'Shut up, Reid' works. I won't be offended, promise."

"Oh Sweetie, I love it when you ramble to your heart's content. It does my soul good to see someone excited over the smaller things in life." Garcia assured him. "But that's not the problem, is it Morgan?"

"Nope. This is the third strike in two hours."

"Strike?" Reid asked, brows scrunched in confusion. Were they talking about baseball and he'd missed it?

"Yep. First the taxi, then the money, and now this." Morgan scolded him slightly as he counted the offenses off on his fingers. "Three strikes, Pretty Boy." The dark man gave the other a charming grin as realization settled in.

"You mean. . ." He trailed off, unsure of how to put it.

"Why spend money on a room when you can have one for free?" Garcia winked. "I mean, you'd have a roommate, but that's part of the fun."

"I wouldn't want to intrude—" Reid started to say but quickly changed tunes when he saw the glares beginning to form. "But that's what's great about friendship, right? You can barge in uninvited. . .sometimes." He ended in a small voice, unsure if that was the right answer.

"Oh my God, Morgan! He's learning! I'm so excited!" Garcia squealed and tried to hug Reid despite the table being in her way.

"Just when I thought it was hopeless." The other chuckled.

"Oooh! Reid! You should stay with me! We can have a slumber party and eat ice cream and—" Reid cut her off.

"Did you say ice cream?" He asked, voice alert.

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Chocolate and a few others like Rocky Road."

"Looks like you have roommate tonight." He responded, surprising them that he'd given in so easily.

"Really?" Garcia asked to confirm what she had just heard.

"You just told me there was ice cream. Once ice cream is involved, it doesn't take much to get me involved. Same with coffee and cake." Reid chuckled.

"Baby Girl, I think we just found our genius's Achilles heel." Morgan grinned. "Seriously Reid, ice cream?"

"I love ice cream." The other responded in a deadly serious voice.

"And where did this love come from? Please don't tell me strangers offered it to you as a kid."

"Of course not!" Reid snapped at Morgan's joke. "Ice cream has sentimental value to me. Before my mom was," He looked around to make sure no one was listening in. "Admitted to Bennigton, she would buy ice cream for us to share on her better days." He told them with a smile that showed his nostalgia and both Morgan and Garcia could see he was remembering happier times.

"I know he's not pretending to be dumb anymore," Garcia muttered lowly to Morgan. "But he's still the sweetest person I've ever met."

"I hear you there." He replied in an equally quiet voice. Staring at the genius across from him, he couldn't help but be thankful they had convinced him to come to Virginia. For some reason the boy's presence just felt right in his life. Now if he could just pass the Academy. . .

"Hey Reid," He called out, ignoring Garcia's glare as his voice brought Reid back to reality. "Have you thought about the Academy yet? Classes are going to be starting soon." He reminded the other as chocolate eyes focused on him.

"Ah." Reid gave them a slow, secret smile that it almost resembled a sly smirk. "Don't worry about that. If my calculations are correct, I've got all my bases covered." He told them and refused to say anything else about it, signaling for the check.

"Sure you don't want to join us, hot stuff?" Garcia flirted with the waiter, making him flush red.

"I'm sorry miss, I don't do activities like that." He told her stiffly before leaving as fast as he could.

Morgan laughed and left a big tip for the guy. Reid just shook his head but both could see he was still smiling.

* * *

 

"So, how'd you like your first day in Virginia?" Garcia asked, sitting on her couch with a carton of ice cream in one hand, the other clutching a spoon.

"Somewhat tortuous. You made me go shopping." Reid admitted as he dug into his chocolate ice cream. After Morgan had dropped them off, Garcia had forced Reid into her car and took him to the mall.

"Oh don't be like that!" She scoffed before taking a bite of her own cookie dough ice cream. "I told you I wasn't going to let you walk around in nerdy clothes all the time. You're still cute but I know what you look like when you really clean up and I can't let such a beautiful vision stay hidden from the world. Besides, you didn't seem too resistant at the mall."

"It wasn't the clothes. I played a dumb idiot whose redeeming feature was his fashion sense. I know what's in and what looks good on me. It was the cell phone bit that I hated." Reid grumbled bitterly as he stabbed at his ice cream.

"Don't sulk." Garcia chided him. "You know you'd need one sooner or later; I just saved you a bunch of time and money. If I hadn't been there to haggle, that savvy piece of technology would have cost you an arm and a leg."

"If you weren't there, I wouldn't have been at the mall at all." Reid fired back, squeaking in surprise as a small bit of cookie dough smacked him in the forehead. "Garcia!" He yelped, sending her a scandalized look that made her start laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh, Sweetie." She gasped, wiping away stray tears. "I can't wait to have you on our team." He muttered something she couldn't quite hear over her laughter, but she had a feeling it was something along the lines of, 'me too.'

After her laughter subsided, they let silence fill the air, content in just being in each other's company. However, Garcia wasn't a quiet person by nature. Silence made her think too much and that often led to her worrying about things to an impressive extent. Once she had called Emily at three in the morning after spending half the night worrying over how her hair had looked that day. It had taken Emily five minutes trying to console her before her grumpiness came out and snapped that the hair had looked fine and unless Garcia was truly having an emergency, then she was going back to bed.

JJ had just hung up after she asked how her hair had looked, so brownie points to Emily for hanging on for the full ride.

Unfortunately, the silence was doing what it always did if it lingered too long and Garcia was looking at Reid with anxious eyes. Was he really ready for this? Had the team pushed him into something he didn't really want? If he did pass and become an agent, would he be able to handle all the dead bodies and gore? Dear God, what if an unsub captured him on a case? Garcia gulped at the thought. What if he died in the line of duty? An image of Reid flashed through her head; a still body on the floor, pale face staring up with lifeless eyes and open lips as blood seeped out from beneath him. . .

The thought made a lump form in her throat and shiver run up her spine.

"Hmm? Is something wrong?" Reid asked, seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye. He was expecting a flirty response of some sort and was surprised when a quiet voice reached him.

"I'm worried." She confessed sadly. "I was so excited to hear that you were going to try to join us, I didn't think about the consequences."

"Such as. . .?" He trailed off and the mental dam broke in her head.

"Did you really want this? What if you get sent somewhere else? I just realized that you being an active agent means you'll be going with everyone else and facing the same dangers. They go out and every time I'm so afraid they'll come back with one less person than they left with." She took in a big breath. "It happened once a few years ago with a bomber. The FBI lost some good agents- I lost some good friends. What if that happens to you? I don't think I could live with myself if you—" She cut herself off when she felt something cold on her forehead.

While she was unloading her thoughts out loud, Reid had gotten up and sat next to her. By the time she got to the bombing part, he had had enough and scooped up some ice cream, smearing it on her forehead to get her attention.

"First off, I wouldn't be here unless I really wanted this. You guys may have helped me out but I've had this dream for a good five years before you even knew I existed. I didn't come into this blindly. I know what being an active agent means and I'm willing to take that risk if it means I can help take one more monster off the streets. Regardless, I have no intention of dying on you." He grinned, trying to cheer her up. "And if I do, then I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you until you stop being sad and realize that the ultimate decision was mine; I chose this path, not you, so don't ever blame yourself for what  _could_ happen. That's the greatest part about the future; it gives you endless paths to walk on."

"You believe in ghosts?" Garcia sniffed with a watery smile.

"Not really," He admitted, instinctively knowing that rambling on about the paranormal and their plausible existence wasn't for this moment. "But for you, Garcia, I will."

She slept easy that night.

* * *

 

Agent Oxley had been an instructor and head director at the Academy for a solid 15 years. He had seen every type of agent walk through these hallways: the ones that would be good, the ones that were in it for the wrong reasons, and the ones that would burn out before their time.

He did his best to help them all and had been mostly successful in that mission. Right away though, it was always easy to see who would be working for the intelligent part of the FBI and who would be participating in raids when the new semester brought in a wave of fresh cadets.

He had thought he had seen every type of cadet.

He was wrong.

After he had dismissed the orientation for the new cadets and classes had finished up for the day, he was sorting through papers on his desk when a knock came on his door.

"Enter." He called out, still looking at the papers. He did put them down and look up when he heard the door open and close again. There stood a young man, slender and tall with light brown curls surrounding his face. His shoulders were tense and he had a determined look on his face.

"Can I help you cadet . . . ?" Oxley trailed off, recognizing the new cadet but not his name.

"Reid." The other answered, moving closer to talk and something clicked in Oxley's head. This particular cadet's application to the Academy had gone through abnormally fast. Normally, applications take about a year of review before the final decision was made. His had taken a little less than 6 weeks. Actually, it had somehow gotten pushed through a week after they had received it. That had been chalked up to a technical glitch, but then it had happened two more times and Oxley wondered if some tech. analyst out there was helping him.

"What can I do for you, Cadet Reid?" He reiterated, waiting for whatever the other had to say. He expected a complaint about a roommate or the food. What he did get was surprising.

"I want to make a deal of sorts." The other told him with an awkward shuffle that gave him a feeling the young man wasn't use to making demands like that.

"I don't usually make deals." He told the other, thinking he was trying to skive off a class that he didn't want to take; that’s usually what it was. "If you want to be an agent, you have to take all the classes."

"Yes, I understand that." Reid nodded anxiously. "But you don't understand the situation. I'm not trying to get out of any classes or graduate early." He told Oxley as he began to fiddle with the messenger bag slung on his shoulder.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to be an active field agent." Reid told him and Oxley had to stop himself from pointing out to the younger that he would need to bulk up if that was the case. "Physically speaking, I'm not ready for that." Well that was surprising. It wasn't often Oxley heard young men admit their faults so easily.

"What I want is to focus more on the physical training than the classroom." The statement was a bold one and Oxley felt a headache coming on.

"Cadet Reid, I understand wanting to strengthen your weak areas but I can't just allow you to skip classes. It's not fair to the other cadets and you'd be woefully unprepared to enter the force if I let you do that."

"Ah, you don't understand!" The other exclaimed, his hands turning into a flurry of movement as he opened his bag and dumped several textbooks and notebooks onto the director's desk. Opening up one of the note books, the older man was surprised to find it filled to the brim with notes.

"I, uh, already did all the classwork." The statement had his eyes snapping back up to the sheepish looking man.

"Excuse me?"

"I already did all the bookwork that the syllabus listed. For every class. I also edited some of the textbooks for future renditions."

Agent Oxley felt a little woozy after opening a book to see it highlighted with corrections.

"I'm sorry Cadet Reid, but just because you've done all the coursework doesn't mean you can skip your classes." The other nodded as if he had been expecting this.

"Director Oxley, in any other circumstance, I would never question that decision. However, there's something that I really want and to get it I have to focus on physical training. Just practicing in my free time won't be enough. I'm sorry but I'm not leaving this office until you agree, and if I have to recite every word from every book I will. Starting with the page number and publishing house." The other threatened, deadly serious.

"I admire your guts cadet, but that bluff won't work on me." The other man said, firm in his decision. He felt his eye twitch in annoyance as the other sighed, shrugged his shoulders in a, 'you asked for it' fashion, and opened his mouth.

"Cover page, Proper Conduct of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Page xxii, copyright 2000, published by. . ."

Oxley waited, thinking the kid had memorized the first few pages and gave him five minutes.

10 minutes passed. The kid was still talking.

20 minutes in and Oxley was beginning to get the feeling that this wasn't a bluff at all, but decided to hold out a little longer just in case.

45 minutes went by and he finally called for the young man to stop.

"That's enough, Cadet Reid." The older man groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I see where you're coming from, you don't need to recite anything else; I believe you."

"So you'll let me. . .?" The other trailed off, excitement clear in his eyes and Oxley gave another sigh.

"I'll approve of it. BUT! You have to have permission from your instructors and you must take their tests as well as the final, understand?"

"Of course! Actually, I already have my instructors' approval." Reid chirped, pulling out a loose leaf of paper from one of the notebooks. "See? I had them sign of on this petition that I made before I came to see you."

Oxley wondered for a moment why none of them had bothered to warn him about this particular cadet. Then again, they were probably busy downing aspirin if he had tried to recite an entire textbook to them as well.

"Alright Cadet Reid, you have yourself a deal." The other finally gave in.

He expected a squeal of delight; maybe an overabundance of thanks. What he did not expect was a shark-like grin to run across that young face.

"You won't regret this sir."

"Really now?"

"Oh yes, the percentage of me accidentally shooting another cadet just dropped down significantly." Reid told him with an over enthused nod and Oxley wondered just what kind of devil the Academy had accepted.

Somewhere in Vegas, a young officer shudder at the memory of a happy, gun-fire Reid he had spent two weeks trying to help.

"It's getting late. May I be dismissed, sir?" Reid asked as he gathered all his books back into his bag.

"Yes. Get some sleep, you and the others have an early morning ahead of you." The young man didn't respond verbally, simply nodded and made his way out the door. Oxley pulled out a sticky note and made a memo to his secretary to pull Reid's file for him to view in the morning.

"Oh, and sir?" He saw the young man standing in the doorway, the light shading his face dramatically.

"I was serious. You won't regret this."

Then he was gone.

"Most terrifying cadet I've ever encountered!" Oxley muttered to himself as he pulled out a shot glass and some whiskey.

God help whatever department they send him to.


	11. Chapter 10: Interlude to the End

Rossi whistled a jaunty little tune to himself as he walked across the Academy's lawn, hands tucked in his pant pockets. Every now and again he'd stop to take in the sights: a group of cadets running as their instructor screamed out orders, another group doing push-ups, and few cadets scattered across the campus simply taking a break in their free time and enjoying the weather. In the distance, he could hear the telltale sound of gun fire.

It was all very nostalgic.

It also made him grin a little sadistically. He had to go through all that torture once long ago; it was nice to see others suffering the fate.

He kept a slow moderate pace as he walked into the building. He had kept an eye out for Reid but had not seen even a glimpse of the boy. This either meant the young man was doing remarkably well or he had messed up royally and been kicked out.

Hopefully, it was the first.

In any case, he'd find out soon enough. Turning down the main hallway, Rossi made his way to the Director's Office. Even from the end of the hall, he could hear the screams of rage muffled by the heavy doors. Curious- but not the least bit frightened- he continued on and as he came closer to his destination, one of the doors slammed open as a middle aged woman in a nice suit stomped out and knocked the door shut with a single push. She ran her fingers through her dark curly hair as she muttered promises of death under her breath. As he took a few steps forward her eyes shot to his and, more or less, imploded in rage.

" _Rossi._ " The dark skinned woman hissed as he neared her.

"Marianna!" He called out in mock-joy. "How are you, darling?"

"Absolutely horrendous thanks to you!" She growled, pointing an accusing finger at him when they came face to face.

"Me?" He blinked in surprise. "We haven't seen each other in years- not since we attended the Academy together."

"And yet," She gritted out slowly. "Your tradition still lives on."

It was silent for a moment has he mulled the statement over in his head, wondering what she meant when it hit him.

"Ah." He nodded sagely. "Sat on a whoopee cushion filled with water, didn't you?"

"There would be no whoopee cushion filled with water if a certain someone hadn't thought it up all those years ago!" She raged.

"If I recall correctly, you were laughing right along with every other cadet." He frowned before a smirk took over, making her want to smack him. "Besides, it's not my fault the future cadets liked it enough to make it a tradition."

If Marianna had been Medusa, Rossi would have been one sexy stone statue.

"Whatever. I can't deal with you or your ego today. If you came to see Alex, then you're just in time." She grunted as she shoved passed him and Rossi took a moment to admire the backend of her skirt that had been soaked.

"It's been years since I've graduated but my genius still lives on; beautiful." Rossi smiled to himself as he opened the door to Oxley's office and stepped in.

"Marianna, I promise you, I will look into the matter. There won't be another whoopee cushion incident while I'm still director." Oxley stated with exasperation, not looking up from his desk.

"And end a well-loved tradition? I beg you to reconsider." Rossi pleaded playfully and smirked when Oxley's head shot up to look at him. "Hello, Alexander. Long time no see."

"Dave!" Oxley grinned, stood up, and in three large steps swept Rossi into a bear hug. "I haven't seen you in ages! Last I heard you had retired and then got brought back."

"Ah, the BAU just couldn't let me go. I see you haven't moved departments yet. I didn't know it was possible to be a director for 15 years."

"At the time, all positions in the BAU were filled. This was the next best thing, according to the higher ups." Oxley said, his tone dry. "In any case, I like it better than the White Collar Department."

"And Marianna?" Rossi questioned as he took a seat. "Last I heard she was on her way to being the head of the Interrogation Department."

"Ah, she got close." Oxley admitted as he sat back down. "Two years ago there was an incident with a prisoner and some felt she went too far."

"Oh?"

"Rumor has it she didn't even touch the guy and he ended up in the psych ward foaming at the mouth. But rumors are always embellished beyond belief. It’s more likely she was removed because she had reached the 10 year mark and you know how they are with people in that department. Most agents want out after 3 years. Whatever the reason, some dumbass from up high thought it would be smart to make her the new secretary here. For all her complaints of the cadets pranking her, she gives back just as good. I've seen some of the most fascinating guerrilla warfare tactics executed from both sides."

"So in her anger she's actually helping them out. Perhaps whoever assigned her here wasn't so dumb."

"No, whoever did it definitely didn't think it through." Oxley groaned. "For all of Marianna's skills, organization isn't one of them. I've missed more meetings these past 2 years because she was off waging war with the cadets than I have in the last 13 combined. But enough about that. Why are you here, Rossi?" Oxley asked; eyes serious as they bored into Rossi’s.

"What, a man can't come and visit an old friend?" Rossi frowned, pretending to be insulted.

"Not you. I know you; if you had wanted to chat, you would have called me. Stop stalling and tell me what you want."

"I just wanted to see if you had any interesting cadets this semester." Rossi admitted to the other. Alexander and him had been in the same graduating class and even though they had not spoken in years, Rossi had always liked the guy. So he decided the man deserved at least a hint as to why he was here.

And if the look in Oxley's eyes meant anything, Rossi would say he had connected the dots. The long, aggravated growl that came from the man moments after only cemented that fact.

"Ironically, I had a similar conversation with Katie Cole 3 days ago and I'm going to tell you the same thing I told her: I can't, I repeat, I  _can't_  talk about the cadets with the unit leaders in any department. No, you may not inquire about certain cadets that caught your interest through the rumor mill and no, you may not have a say in what department a cadet goes too. Who you get is who you get. Deal with it."

"Commendable rules, I agree with them a hundred percent." Rossi replied seriously. "However. . ." He drew out the silence until Oxley gave him an annoyed glared.

“. . .I'm not a unit chief. I'm just a senior member of the BAU." He grinned slyly.

"Regardless, I can't share sensitive information with you."

"And I'm not asking. I'm just interested in any cadets that caught your attention this year. Good, bad, deplorable. C'mon, Alex, I need a dose of gossip here."

"You sure you're a middle aged Italian and not a teenage girl?" Oxley muttered.

"Positive. As a middle aged,  _sexy_  Italian, I make sure to give proper thank yous. What teenager does that?" At the sigh, Rossi knew he had won.

"I like brandy. Send me wine and I'll make sure the BAU is stuck with the most annoying- but qualified- cadet I can find." Oxley warned as he pulled open his desk drawer and began shuffling through files. "I suppose as long as I don't specifically say the grades of the cadets, it won't be considered sharing sensitive information. Yet, knowing weakness and strengths is something potential team mates need to know." Oxley grumbled pulling out a few files and letting them hit the desk with an audible 'wap!'

"I love it when people know how to bend the rules." Rossi admitted shamelessly, shifting his seat closer to the desk to get a better view.

"Only when it's in your favor." Oxley shot back before focusing on the topic. "Being in charge for 15 years has given me my own 'special' profile skills; I can usually spot who's going to make it and who's going to burn out by the third week. I've managed to cut loose the ones that obviously didn't have their hearts in it and mostly the ones that aren't quite suitable for the FBI." Oxley pushed the files towards Rossi when he was finished speaking.

"Mostly?" Rossi questioned, taking the files as Oxley slid them to him. It was three files and Rossi quickly peeked in to peer at the photos. One had the picture of a young woman with tan skin and dark hair. She wasn't smiling and the look in her eyes let him know she was a fighter. The next was a blond haired blue eyed man that had the build of a linebacker.

The last one was Reid's and Rossi didn't know whether he should laugh or shake his head at the deer-in-headlights look the boy had in the photo.

"There are always a few shooting stars that I can never tell if they're going to burn out fast or shoot far." Oxley admitted. "These three are my shooting stars this semester. The girl is Elisa Ortega; raised in the slums of New York, probably fell into some gang violence along the way though there's no record. She graduated from the police academy and did a few years as a beat cop."

"She certainly looks fierce." Rossi commented.

"Oh, trust me, she is. Too much, I'm afraid. First day of self-defense, she almost broke another cadet's arm off because she thought he was going soft on her." Oxley admitted and Rossi whistled in amazement.

"A young woman trudging into a male dominated work force- can't say I blame her for letting them know she wasn’t easy pickings."

"I agree. Her skills weren't the problem; it was her anger. She was taking every little thing as a slight and to be honest, the physical classes were the only ones she excelled at. She's the top dog in that arena but her attitude left her alienated. Treating a sparring partner like a criminal is never a smart move."

Against his will, Rossi's mind thought of another young woman whose anger took a gun to a man before they had proof of his crimes. Rossi had never actually met Elle but her picture and the lingering bitterness (along with the wild rumors) after her resignation made him wonder if Elisa was cut from the same cloth. After thinking over Oxley's words for a moment, his brow furrowed up.

"You said her anger 'was' a problem. Did she straighten herself out?"

"Does she look like the type?" Oxley asked sarcastically. "I'm almost certain she would have been expelled for excessive violence if it wasn't for the young man in the next file over."

Setting down Elisa's file, Rossi opened up the one containing the blue eyed giant and snorted at the name. "John Oldenson? How very American."

"25 years old, joined the army at 18 and spent three years in Afghanistan. Born in small town, joined the football team in high school, his father is a retired lieutenant turned town sheriff." Oxley supplied.

"A big, buff army man with a football background. Sounds like a real manly man." Rossi commented as he looked at the sky eyes staring up at him from the photo. "Yet, something tells me he's not."

"Damn. I was hoping you would ask if he excelled in firearm practice and ate bacon all day. Guess that's what I get for thinking I could pull one over on a profiler, huh?" Oxley chuckled. "You're right, as usual. His weapons training is ranked at average and his physical endurance is above average for obvious reasons but his hand-to-hand combat is awful."

"Strange. If he was in the army then he would have needed to pass that to be in active duty." Rossi muttered, more to himself than the director.

"And that my friend, is the crux of the problem. You're looking at a real life gentle giant." A wheezing laugh escaped aged lips. "He can do hand-to-hand combat, he just doesn't want to."

"What's he doing in the Academy then?" Rossi questioned.

"He's doing exactly what his father told him." Oxley replied.

"Oh. It’s a ‘Father-didn't-get-to-live-his-dream-so-he-forces-it-on-his-kid’ situation?" Rossi tsked and shook his head in sympathy.

"I have no actual evidence but his father was injured in Vietnam, so it's probable." Oxley admitted. "He wants his kid to be in everything from raid teams to stopping terrorist with moves like Bruce Lee. Clearly, Cadet Oldenson does not want that but he won't say anything. Thankfully, I'm the one who makes the final decision on who goes where and I have the perfect place for him." Alex gave Rossi an evil smile and Dave smirked back.

"And where would that be?"

"There's that old stereotype that says if you got brawn, you've got no brain. Not true with Cadet Oldenson. He has a knack and that knack is numbers and patterns. The code breakers are gonna love this kid. I predict I'll be getting thank you cards for years to come."

"And he helped out Ortega?"

"It probably wouldn't have happened if not for Cadet Reid." Rossi perked up at Reid's name and decided to feign ignorance.

"This scrawny kid?" He gave Oxley an incredulous look and Oxley rewarded him with a haggard one.

"Cadet Reid is special." The Director admitted. "His application went through surprisingly fast-  _twice_. That by itself is suspicious but then the Director of the FBI sent us an email saying we were absolutely not to lose him and after looking at his file, it's not surprising. When was the last time we had an honest to God genius come through these doors? One that actually wants to be in the FBI, not one doing research for a paper about discipline and violence and whatnot." Oxley snorted, clearly still steamed over a paper written a few years ago that had casted the Academy in a bad light.

"Huh. Don't think I've ever met a genius in real life. Well, not counting myself. What's he like?"

Yup. Rossi was definitely milking this as much as he could.

"Cadet Reid is the snake you don't see 'till its fangs are in your throat." Oxley responded dryly and Rossi was genuinely surprised at the description.

"The first night he actually got me to give him a virtual free pass from his classes." Oxley continued. "He  _annoyed_  me into defeat. Told me he wanted to work on building up his body. Lord help us if it catches up to his brain; we'd have an intellectual Hulk running around spouting statistics instead of smashing buildings." Rossi was glad he wasn't drinking a beverage because the mental image made him snort loudly in amusement.

"Go ahead, laugh it up." Oxley grumbled, trying to hide his own smile. "For the first few days he was outside training from dawn to dusk. He never did warm ups or took breaks if he could help it, so he exhausted himself and ended up collapsing on the track. Thankfully, it was only a case of severe dehydration and not heat stroke. A day of being stuck in the nurse's office and being scolded knocked some sense into him. He's still out there a lot but he attends classes as a 'break' of sorts." Oxley shook his head in amazement. "Guess you can't just shut a brain like that off."

"And how did his peers take to him?" Rossi wondered, truly concerned. Reid had never actually said it out loud but he clearly wanted to be able to talk and make friends with people his own age.

At Oxley's uncomfortable shift, Rossi knew that had not happened.

"They," Oxley took a deep breath, collecting himself. "They more or less ignored him. I have not seen evidence of bullying but every time he tried to speak to someone, they'd brush him off and walk away."

"Please tell me you're joking, Alex. At least tell me the individuals have been dealt with." Rossi asked; a cold tone in his voice.

"If only. Please understand Dave, I can't punish someone when they technically haven't done anything. They don't throw slurs or punches at him and he didn't exactly hide the fact that he was a genius."

"And that's his fault? For not wanting to hide what he is? What he can't help?" Rossi snapped back, anger clear in his tensed form.

"25 cadets were bulldozed over, in the sense of intelligence, when he showed up four days after class started and proceeded to out teach the teacher. I understand he must feel intimidated for being in the minority, but forgive them for feeling intimidated by  _him_. How would you feel if you studied all night and the next day some guy you don't even know proceeds to know the subject better than you and he doesn't even have a book?"

When the other perspective was put on view, Rossi felt his anger deflate a little.

"Still, that's no reason to shut him out."

"You didn't let me finish. Not everyone was overwhelmed by him. Cadet Oldenson found another person who could understand patterns and numbers as well as him. You know that mock Zodiac code Hensly gives every year?"

"Yeah. The BAU has a copy and it took me a whole week to figure out and that was with Aaron helping me." Rossi recalled. The two had laughed when it had first been faxed to them but after two hours they'd been tearing out their hair. Rossi was prepared to give up but Hotch was not a person to let something, even a puzzle, defeat him.

"Reid and Oldenson combined forces and broke the code in under a day." Oxley revealed quietly. "Trust me Rossi, that's a record."

"So where does Ortega fit into this?" Rossi asked, deciding to get back on track.

"After the mock code, Oldenson and Reid started sparring together. They're the same height but Oldenson has more bulk. Ortega had been running when she saw him pin Reid. She thought he was bullying him and tried to fight him. Bullies are not on her list of favorite people. After she was done screaming and trying to punch him, he calmly explained the situation. When Reid backed him up, she got mad at Reid because he went down so easily. Ever since, she's been helping him with his self-defense and he's returned the favor by helping her out in class."

At the explanation, Rossi gave a silent sigh of relief. If the two weren't Reid friends, at least they were his allies.

"That's good. Wouldn't want a genius to quit for being ostracized, would we?" Not that that would happen. Reid was determined to get into the BAU. At the thought, Rossi went for broke and asked, "Any idea where you're gonna send him?"

"Honestly, no. He can fit into so many places with his brain; it's hard to nail down where he should go. Right now I've narrowed it down to the Code Breakers, the BAU, and the Interrogation Unit."

The first two were understandable but the last choice left Rossi baffled.

"Interrogation Unit? Are you pulling my leg, Alex?" The man gave him a sheepish smile.

"If you saw the technique he created, you'd understand." The man said mysteriously.

"And this technique is. . .?"

"Too terrifying to speak about."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Now how about you stop playing games and tell me what you're  _real_  reason for coming here is?" Oxley asked calmly.

"When did you figure out I had an agenda?" Rossi questioned, not denying the fact and Oxley raised an eyebrow in response.

"David Rossi coming into my office wanting to know about cadets just for the hell of it? Don't treat me like I'm stupid, Dave."

"Fair enough." Rossi commented, giving up the game. "I'm here for Reid. See, the BAU needs him and he needs the BAU."

"Rossi. . ." Oxley trailed off dangerously.

"Hear me out, Alex. After I explain, you'll understand." The man gave him a dubious look but consented so Rossi explained meeting Reid in Las Vegas and how he had solved their case. He left out the private things Reid had told them, glossing over them as 'personal problems.' After finishing, the office grew quiet as Oxley mulled over the story.

"I understand where you're coming from, I really do, and if it's like you say it is, I'll do my best to get him in."

"Your best? Oxley, your decision is the  _final_  one. That's why you're the director." Oxley shook his head slowly in something akin to despair.

"As I said, Cadet Reid is a special case. The higher ups have taken a keen interest in him. With him, well, I can  _assign_  him a place but there's no telling if he'll get it. If the higher ups already have a different place in mind then it's out of my power."

"Technically, the BAU recruited him." Rossi pointed out.

"Technically, the BAU is part of the FBI and has to follow orders." The Director shot back. "Rossi, please don't try to strong arm me into a corner on this. He has a chance; that's all I can give you."

"I understand, Alex." Rossi said as he stood up and thanked the man. Worse comes to worst, Garcia can break into the records and change a few things. With that thought to console him, Rossi thanked Oxley and went on his way.

Graduation was in a week and Rossi was sure it'd be an interesting one.

* * *

 

Graduation was today and Reid couldn't stop pacing.

"Would you stop?" Elisa hissed behind him. "Just looking at you is making me nervous."

"Sorry." He mumbled back, stopping in front of a mirror to adjust his cap. "I'm bad with crowds and people staring at me.  When I walk across stages I always end up tripping."

"You're just working yourself up." John pointed out calmly. "Take a deep breath and calm down."

So Reid sucked in a breath and held it for a moment before releasing it slowly.

"Better?" John asked.

"No. I still feel like I'm on death row. Maybe I should just go back to Vegas an-ow! Elisa! That hurts!" He yelped as she pulled on his ear like one would a naughty child.

"Listen up, you. I did not spend four months of my life helping your pathetic body get into shape just so you could back out at the last second. I also did not spend four months of my life actually trying to understand all that psychology and numbers that you and the Jolly Giant over here crammed into my head."

"So you repay me by ripping off my ear?" He complained, clawing at her arm.

"I'm repaying you by making sure you actually go through with graduation.” She replied, letting go of his red ear. "C'mon, it's almost time." Elisa reminded him as she walked ahead.

"You know violence is her way of showing she cares." John said softly, as Reid continued to rub his ear.

"I know." He chuckled. "And I am grateful for what's she's done for me; for what you've both done for me."

By himself, he had been at a complete loss on how to strengthen his body. It was only after John's quiet instructions and Elisa's harsh yells that he began to see improvement. He was nowhere near top of their class physically but with their help he had made a passing grade and that was good enough for him.

It helped that John was not completely interested in physical training. He knew numbers almost as well as Reid did and that made for a great bonding experience. Elisa complained she couldn't grasp the concepts but after hours of patient explanations and once she actually buckled down and focused, her flimsy grades shot up.

Walking into the hallway where the other cadets were waiting, Reid couldn't help but be happy it was almost over. Being purposely ignored was nothing new to him but it still stung. As the music started and they were given the signal to enter the auditorium, Reid couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

Soon he would be where he needed to be.

Once they were all seated and the music ended, Director Oxley took to the stage and gave a small speech. He wasn't a man of many words but he knew his students well and gave them these words to remember:

"Know what you're good at and don't let anyone take it away from you. Stand your ground for what you know is right. From here on out, you’ll be full-fledged FBI agents. Take your job seriously and with pride."

Then the lineup began and Reid felt his heart quicken again as he neared the stage. Walking across had always been a lonely experience; his mom had never been well enough to attend and no one else cared.

As his name was called, he took a deep breath and stepped up, already knowing what would happen. He would go through motions and stumble across the stage and the crowd would give him a pity clap. Preparing himself, he shook the Director's hand. The man smiled and said, "Good luck, son. You did well."

Smiling back, Reid thanked him and made for the painfully long trek across the short stage, prepared for the quiet claps he always got.

"WHOO! GO REID!"

"I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!

"REEEEIIIIIIDDDDD. HAVE MY BABIES!"

Blushing at words, his head shot towards the crowd and saw Morgan and Garcia screaming their hearts out, while the rest of the team was cheering along and clapping.

His heart warmed and if he tripped just a little at the end, no one said anything.

"Congratulations, Agent Reid. Here's your diploma and your assigned position." Marianna greeted him at the end, handing over the diploma and the envelope. He gave a nod of appreciation and went over to Elisa who had already ripped hers open.

"Sweet mother." He heard her mutter.

"Good or bad?" He asked curiously and when she gave him a violent grin, he knew it was good.

"You're looking at the newest agent in the Interrogation Unit. Heh, I need to go watch Hannibal again." He shuddered at the thought and did his best not to profile her. As long as she didn't actually torture or kill anybody in her spare time, it didn't matter what her interests were.

"Looks like John got in with the Code Breakers." Elisa commented and he looked up to see John staring down at his paper in amazement with a big grin of satisfaction on his face. Good, he deserved to be happy.

"Well, you gonna leave me in suspense or are you gonna open yours?" Her question reminded him of his unknown fate. Nervously, he opened the letter and read it, his brown eyes widening in shock as he took in the words. Curious, Elisa leaned over and read it herself.

"Oh, you suck." She snorted before going back to her own paper. He was about to respond when he heard his name being called. Looking around, he saw the BAU team waving to him from across the auditorium. Smiling, he politely excused himself and made his way towards them.

"So when do I start?" He asked with a big grin on his face as Garcia shrieked and trapped him in a bear hug while the rest congratulated him.

He deserved to be happy too.


	12. Chapter 11: Bam! Epilogue Time!

The cool air of the police department was a welcoming relief from the sweltering heat outside. The team had been called down to Alachua, Florida to investigate a string of murders. The murders had one small thing connecting them and they were happening so quickly and so close together that the police department knew something strange was going on and decided to contact the BAU.

"This isn't going to be an easy one, is it?" Prentiss sighed as she looked at photos of the victims JJ had pinned on the board two days ago.

Carl J. Suiaues was the first victim. He was 55, found stabbed 23 times in the back outside the local theater. In the breast pocket of his coat, scraps of paper with letters scribbled on them had been found by the CSI team.

Two days later, Carol Redlia was discovered hanging from her balcony. The upturned furniture, broken glass, and bruises around her neck were enough to rule out suicide. Again, there were slips of paper found on her person. Not even 24 hours had passed before someone called 911 about another body. Behind The Two Boars Pub, Clark Duenece was stabbed multiple times like the first victim but, bizarrely enough, had actually died from drowning in wine that had been forced down his throat. In his hand, the word 'revenge' rested, carved into the cold skin.

The fourth murder was by far the worst and the one that had the Alachua Police Department calling for the BAU.

A young woman, later identified as Vana Stuitti, had been found in a ditch along the side of dirt road. She had been raped several times; her hands and tongue had been severed and tossed a few feet away. When she had been found, her neck was almost at a 90 degree angle and the mortician concluded she had died from a broken neck. Laid gently on her chest were two letters that formed the heart breaking word she had no doubt muttered before her tongue was taken.

_No._

"Man, this guy's all over the place. He starts with stabbing, then tries a suicide cover up, then goes back to stabbing and finally escalates to removing body parts and rape? This is not making any sense." Morgan groused as he took in the photos.

"True, but all the attacks hold the same aggressiveness." Rossi pointed out. "The stab wounds were jagged and deep; our unsub was very angry when he was working. That's reflected in the wounds around Carol Redlia's neck and the manner of wounds on Vana Stuitti's body."

"Ok, that's one thing." Morgan admitted before continuing on. "Still, doesn't explain why he keeps switching. I mean, this guy keeps swapping methods and he's clearly comfortable doing this; that's rare."

"Unless the murders have to be this way." Reid piped up as he continued to read the files given to them by the police. "The unsub may be aggressive but these murders were planned precisely and the scenes were clean. CSI didn't find any DNA in Redlia's house but the mortician did note that her finger nails had been meticulously cleaned and CSI did notice that her trash was missing as was the bag to her vacuum cleaner."

"You think she managed to get a hit on him?" Emily asked, eyes alert and Reid shrugged in response.

"Nothing like a punch but if she scratched him then particles of his skin would have been found unless he cleaned up, which it looks like he did. As it is, we can assume he probably has scratches on his face or arms."

"Well," JJ spoke up, eyebrows burrowed in concentration. "Clark Duenece did have the word 'revenge' carved into his hand and these murders are all unique. Maybe the unsub's planning the murders around the victims to fit them specifically?"

"That's a possibility." Morgan commented. "He's getting stranger as he goes though. Drowning someone in wine? Removing limbs? Revenge may be the motive but we're missing a big piece of the puzzle."

Reid hummed in response and kept flipping through the files before becoming disheartened and tossing them on the table. In the time that he'd been with the BAU, they had gone on three major cases that had left him queasy and plagued with nightmares. John's words from the second week they had become friends at the Academy came back to him multiple times over the months.

" _I saw enough mangled bodies in Afghanistan. I'd rather not see any more."_

For all his planning, Reid hadn't taken into account that he'd be dealing with the actual bodies. Sure, he had seen many from his filing days in Vegas but looking at pictures and standing next to the real thing differed vastly.

As much as he did not want the others to know how disturbed he had been, it was kind of hard to miss. Thankfully, Rossi and Hotch had taken him aside and assured him that his reaction to dead bodies was normal and that he would get used to seeing them over time.

Admittedly, this was by far the strangest case yet. Worse though, was Reid felt like these murders were familiar and he couldn't figure out why. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked over the cases.

Were these historical references? Who did he know, in his vast knowledge, that had been stabbed 23 times in the back? Or hung from their own balcony? Who had been stabbed and then drowned in wine? And what poor woman had suffered the same fate as Vana Stuitti?

Urrg! It was so close and yet he couldn't think of what it was. Groaning, he let his head hit the table with a resounding, 'thunk.'

"Aw, c'mon, Pretty Boy. No one expects you to solve this case. Though that big brain of yours is helpful." Morgan teased, lifting the mood as he ruffled the younger's hair.

"Go away, Morgan." Reid grumbled, swatting at the hand. "These murders sound familiar but I can't place them at the moment." He admitted, causing the others to look at him in surprise.

"You serious, Reid?" Morgan asked incredulously. "These sound familiar to you? What do you read in your spare time?"

"Lots of things. For the life of me I can't remember where, but I swear I've read about these before."

"You're sure?" Rossi broke in. "I've been in this business awhile Reid and I think I'd remember hearing about these; the odd murders always stand out."

"I'm fairly positive." The young genius insisted, hoping the others believed him despite his lack of evidence.

"Alright. Morgan, call Garcia. See if she can find anything in the database." Rossi ordered.

"Will do." Morgan shrugged as he flipped open his phone. "Hey Baby Girl, got a favor. . ."

As he began listing the information to her, Rossi's own phone went off and there was a knock on the door. Answering it, JJ spent a few moments talking to the officer on the other side before coming back in with some evidence that had been released from CSI.

"These are the scraps of paper they found on the victims. CSI says it's clean of any poison and the ink used was a common one found in pens."

Quick as lightning, Reid snatched the baggies out of the box, opened them and began pouring the letters onto the table.

"Jeez, Reid!" Emily snickered. "Not gonna let anyone else have a look?"

"I think these letters mean something important. I just need to figure out what." He muttered back, voice distant as he quickly started putting letters in place. Before long the words, 'Bounds' and 'Should' joined the already known words 'Revenge' and 'No.'

"It's definitely a message from our unsub." JJ commented as she leaned over to take a look.

"Can I get a vowel?" Emily asked sarcastically right as Morgan shut his phone.

"Sorry, Reid. Garcia couldn't find anything. She's gonna dig a little deeper but don't get your hopes up." Reid nodded distractedly and opened his mouth to say something when Rossi caught their attention.

"That was Hotch. While going over details with the Chief, they received another call. The body of a teenage boy was found on the corner of Verona Avenue and Laurence Street. There was a girl with him but she's still alive and has been taken to the hospital. Emily, JJ, Hotch wants you two to go to the hospital and find out what you can. Reid, Morgan, and I are heading to the scene."

"Actually, I'd like to stay here if that's alright." Reid spoke up, still staring at the letters. Rossi gave him a look and he responded with a pleading gaze. "Please, I think I'm close to finding the connection. I just need a little more time."

"All right, call if you find anything." Rossi conceded. In truth, Morgan, Hotch and himself would be enough to handle the crime scene and technically, Hotch hadn't said it was a direct order. The Unit Chief would probably prefer Reid stay here if he was close to a break through.

Reid didn't notice them leave, so deep in thinking he was. The message from the unsub was what had set off the inkling of why he was killing in such a manner but the newest victims almost solidified it.

Standing up, he walked over to the white board and wrote:

**_Revenge should have no bounds._ **

"Hamlet." He hissed under his breath before scrambling for his phone and dialing Garcia.

"What's up, Junior G?" The tech's perky voice filtered into his ear as he moved to grab his stuff.

"Hey Garcia, I need you to double check something for me."

"Shoot."

"Look up and see if there's anything that mentions Julius Caesar being stabbed 23 times in the back."

"A weird request, but I've had to type in stranger things." She hummed and he paced anxiously as he heard her clacking away on her keyboard. "Yup, Mr. Caesar was stabbed 23 times in the back by Brutus and his gang. Guess that happens when you get power hungry."

"Thanks Garcia! One last thing and I'll let you go." He chattered as he made his way near the door.

"Ouch, don't wanna talk to me? Harsh, baby. But I can heal my broken heart in silence. Whatcha need, sweet cheeks?"

"I need the location to the nearest library."

Thankfully, the library wasn't far and after flashing his badge to the librarian he was able to take all the books he needed back to the police station and wait for the others to return.

JJ and Emily were the first to return both wearing angry looks on their pretty faces.

"How'd the hospital visit go?" He asked meekly, knowing very well how strongly the two women felt after they finished interviewing children and teenagers who had been attacked.

"Julia Telctupe is a very brave 14 year old. She suffered some shallow wounds around her neck from a knife and- we're still waiting on lab results- it appears she was drugged beforehand. She and her boyfriend, Tom Morenauge, were at an after party for the actors last night. Apparently the local theater had just put on-"

"Romeo and Juliet." Reid interrupted Emily, making both her and JJ blink in surprise.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" JJ asked.

"In the play, Juliet fakes her own death by drinking a poison that puts her in a 'death-like' state. When Romeo comes upon her, he thinks she's dead and kills himself by drinking poison. When Juliet awakens, she discovers his body and takes her own life by stabbing herself." On the rolling chair he was currently sitting in, Reid rolled over to the white board that had been filled up with his notes. "All the deaths so far are from Shakespeare plays; even the unsub's message is from Shakespeare. I expect the next word to come in shall be, 'Have' and maybe 'Hamlet' if the unsub left a message for both bodies."

"Ok," JJ started slowly. "I'm from a small town and the only Shakespeare play we did was Romeo and Juliet, so I see the resemblance but the others?"

"Julius Caesar was stabbed 23 times in the back and was 55- the same as Carl J. Suiaues, who happened to act as a hobby when he was younger. According to Garcia- who I called to get some more background on all the victims- he was the male lead in many plays, including  _Julius Caesar_. He stopped acting after a while but still donated money to the theater."

"So maybe one of the other actors who never got the lead role was jealous?" Emily reasoned. "It would explain why the unsub was so angry; he's been nursing this grudge for a good twenty years."

"Possibly, I still haven't found the stressor but I'm assuming the theater has something to do with it." Reid chattered as he continued on. "Carol Redlia was hung, which was a bit harder to pin down- Shakespeare kills off a lot of people in his plays by hanging them- but from ground level, the bars of her gate made it look like she was in a prison. Cordelia from  _King Lear_  was hung in prison. Also, she was one of King Lear's daughters."

"That's important?"

"Yes. Carol Redlia's father was the one that got the theater back up and running. He was the reason it thrived so well; he was the Head Director when Suiaues was still acting. He retired seven years ago and died of a stroke two years ago. Redlia never took over the theater but did stay involved. To our unsub, her father was King Lear and she was Cordelia- the King of the Theater and his daughter." Reid took a moment to catch his breath.

"Clark Duenece's death is out of  _Richard III_. In it the Duke of Clarence is arrested for treason by his brother, Richard."

"Why?" JJ asked curiously.

"The short summary is that a prophecy was made that a member of the Royal family whose name starts with 'G' would kill the King's heirs. The Duke's first name is George, so he's the one accused. It's not him of course- it actually Richard, whose title is the Duke of Gloucester. Anyway, while he's in jail he's stabbed to death by henchmen hired by Richard. Then, just to make sure he's dead, one of them drowns him in wine-two hogsheads worth, or a 105 imperial gallons. That's why Clark Duenence was found by The Two Boars Pub- it's a play on words."

"Why would anyone do that to their own brother?" JJ asked aghast.

"George was the next in line to the throne that Richard wanted." Reid replied absentmindedly.

"So then Clark Duenence was standing in the unsub's way of something." Emily summarized, pursing her lips tightly together in dismay.

"Yes and it does have to do with the theater. Duenence had only been in Alachua for 3 months but he'd already become a high ranking member in the theater. It probably infuriated the unsub that a young man, not even 35, had already surpassed him and he'd been there for over 20 years."

"What about Vana Stuitti? Was she a member of the theater?"

"Surprisingly, no. According to interviews the police had with her family and friends, she did mention an unwanted admire who sent her Shakespeare quotes with flowers. According to the interviews conducted, she did her best to ignore the gifts and no one reported it to the police because the gifts weren't harmful."

"But the unsub would be watching her and her reaction to the gifts," Emily took over. "And if he saw how uninterested she was, then he would become more and more angry at the rejection."

"Exactly. I won't go into details about the play he took her death from; just know that Lavinia's death in  _Titus Andronicus_ is considered one of the most gruesome deaths in a Shakespeare play." Sucking in a deep breath, he continued on.

"I think our unsub is a middle age man with a menial job. Probably something like a janitor. He's quiet, unassuming and often forgotten about. He's not good with social interaction and has a hard time communicating with others. He feels unappreciated and resentful. Probably lives alone. Does that sound about right?" He asked at the end, his confidence deflating a little but Emily's hand on his shoulder reassured him.

"It sounds like a decent profile to start out with. Julia told us one of the workers had raised concerns about her and her boyfriend being the leads but she couldn't recall who it was, so it fits in with what you have. We'll fill the others in when they come back."

At that moment, JJ's phone went off.

"Jareau. Hey, Morgan. Yes, me and Emily are done with the interview and are back at the station with Reid." She went quiet for a few moments, listening, before her eyes widened slightly. "What? Ok, I'll let them know, thanks." Hanging up she turned to look at her two curious co-workers.

"At the crime scene they spotted a man hanging around. When an officer went to question him, he tried to run. He was subdued but refused to speak and Rossi noticed some scratch marks on his cheek. They're bringing him in for questioning."

"This should be fun." Emily muttered with a grin.

It turned out that the suspect was a tough one. He refused to say anything and the only reason they knew his name was because one of the officers recognized him.

"Reese Lealpha-Kirks. Real strange guy; lives a few doors down from me. He does sound and tech for the local theater and works as a stocker at the grocery store. Keeps to himself but every damn year he buys a bunch of starlings and releases them into the wild. It's been hell on the environment. Not even sure why he does it."

"In 1890, The Acclimation Society released starlings in Central Park as a way to show appreciation to Shakespeare, who mentions starlings in some of his plays. He's following tradition." Reid supplied, making the officer's eyes go wide as Morgan, Emily and JJ withheld snickers.

The door to the interrogation room opened as Rossi and Hotch stepped out.

"He's not talking." Hotch began. "He flinched a little when the scratch marks were mentioned but he's refusing to speak."

"We tried the good cop, bad cop and didn't get a response." Rossi told them with a shrug. "We even tried to make it sound like we had evidence against him but he didn't budge."

"Emily, I want you to go in and see if you can get anything out of him. Maybe he'll react differently to a female presence." Hotch ordered and the dark haired woman gave a sharp nod before heading in.

The group stayed around the window, watching. Emily did her best to sound understanding, telling the man softly that she wanted to help him.

He continued to stare at the wall.

"He's quiet but he's getting angry." Morgan noted as the grey eyes of the suspect became tighter and his hands turned into fists.

A thought came to Reid and he involuntarily let out a gasp, making the others look at him concern.

"What's wrong, Reid?" Hotch asked.

"Nothing, sir." Reid said immediately and flushed when they all arched their eyebrows at him. "Really! It's just. . .if Emily can't get him to talk, can I try?" He asked in a timid voice.

"You think you can get him to start talking?" Hotch questioned, his face serious. The whole group shot each other concerned looks when Reid let loose a maniacal grin that matched the giggle he let out.

"Hotch, I've never really wanted to interrogate anyone because I've been told my technique was, ah, vicious, but I guarantee that when I'm done, we'll know if he's our unsub."

The Unit Leader looked a little unsure but in the end decided to trust his newest subordinate.

"All right. If Emily can't get him to open up, then you're up next." The blinding grin he received in return made him question his decision.

"Great! Just give me a few moments to prepare." Reid chirped as he bounded for the door before stopping for a moment. "Oh! JJ, could you fill them in on what we found? Thanks!"

Then he was gone, leaving a shell-shocked team behind.

"You guys found something out?" Morgan asked and JJ nodded her head slowly.

"Yeah, Reid found out that all the murders were replicas of ones found in Shakespeare plays." She spent the next 15 minutes telling them about the hospital visit and the profile they put together.

"Huh. Never knew Shakespeare was such a gruesome guy. I mean, I knew he killed a lot people off in his plays but severing body parts? Rape? What the hell? I thought women liked his stuff because he was romantic."

"Morgan, you wouldn't know what the word romantic meant if it took you out for a nice dinner." Emily's frustrated voice joined in as she sidled up to them. Looking at Hotch, she gave a shrug of her shoulders. "Sorry, Hotch. He wasn't buying any of it."

"That's fine. Reid says he has a way to get Mr. Kirks to talk. Thanks to the officer's information, we know he fits the profile and is a known face around the theater."

At that moment, Reid returned and the team felt their jaws drop (minus Hotch, who doesn't do jaw drops and Rossi, who raised his eyebrow in appreciation).

It was like seeing Reid for the first time again. The young man wore dark blue jeans that encased his legs in a tantalizing way, showing they really did run on for miles. The charcoal grey dress shirt had its sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a few of the top buttons were left undone to invite eyes to look upon the pale skin that hid underneath. His hair had been brushed back and wavy with the help of some hair product. On the top of his head sat a pair of aviator sunglasses. His signature purple scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck and on his shoulder hung his leather messenger bag that matched his boots.

He made a beautiful figure right up until he stumbled a little.

"Whoops!" He let out an airy laugh. "It's been so long since I've worn these kinds of shoes. Ha, ha!"

"Reid," Emily started slowly. "What, um, what are you doing?"

"Standing in a room? Ow! Emily that hurt! Why would you do something so mean?" He whined, rubbing his shoulder were she punched him.

"I'm trying to smack some sense back into you! The last time you were like this was in Ve- gas. . ." She drew out the last word as her eyes widened in realization and Reid hid a smirk by biting his lower lip.

"Oh no. No, Reid. You can't-" He cut her off as he reached the door to the interrogation room.

"I so can, can, can Miss Negative!"

He then gave the team the Vulcan hand sign and opened the door.

Reese Kirks was a fairly unassuming looking person. He had a square jaw, brown hair peppered with grey on the top of his head, thin lips and a slightly crooked nose. His broad shoulders were hunched over as his eyes stared at the metal table in front of him.

"Hi! I'm Spencer!" Reid said with a megawatt smile that had Kirks doing a small double take before regaining his bearings as Reid sat down and continued to chatter.

"So. . .are you mute?" Reid asked. "Because that would totally explain why you aren't talking. I mean, you can tell me if you can't talk. I won't tell anyone, pinky promise!" He said seriously, holding out his pinkie finger. The other did nothing so after a moment Reid withdrew his hand and went for his bag.

"Ok, I get it, I was being rude, sorry. How about I read to you instead? I heard you like that one guy, Shakespeare, right?" He asked as he dumped all the books onto the table. He randomly picked one up, opened it to a random page and began to read and purposely mispronounce names.

"Room-eo, Room-eo, wherefore art thou Room-eo." Reid made a show of squinting his eyes at the text. "OMG, I think I found a typo! Everyone knows 'art' has to do with paintings. I think they meant 'are.' Seriously, why didn't Word catch that?"

For the first time, the suspect made a noise. It was just a strangled groan in his throat but it was progress.

"Oh, you want to hear more? Ok. Oh, Room-eo, I love you so, blah, blah, blah. Let's run away and have babies!" Reid read out loud in a high pitch voice before switching to a deeper voice. "Ju Ju, I've loved ya since I laid eyes on you three days ago. This is totes real love. I know a priest who sells roofies on the side, so we can fake our deaths. When no one's looking, we'll run off into the sun-set and get married."

"Romeo." Kirks hissed out.

"I'm sorry?" Reid blinked innocently.

"It's Romeo and Juliet you illiterate piece of trash!" Kirks yelled, banging his cuffed hands against the table.

"Hey, hey, hey, no need be mean! I was just making the story more interesting."

"No, you were ruining it! Just like the Head Director ruined it when he casted those two idiotic children as the leads!"

"Oh, don't be silly." Reid said with a lazy wave of his hand. "I'm sure they were great. Do you want me to read  _Hamlet_  next?"

"No you fool! You've already desecrated one of the Master's works and you dare to do it to another? I'll kill you! I'll poison you like Hamlet's mother was! I'll smother you like Othello did to Desdemona! I'll string you up like Cordelia!" He screamed.

"But you've already done Cordelia."

"That bitch had it coming! If she or her damn father knew what real talent was, I'd be more respected! If I had been in half the plays they had casted Carl in, we would've been the next Broadway!"

"Were you and Carl friends?"

"Hah!" The unsub gloated. "He thought so! You should have seen his face when he realized it was me who stabbed him the back! It was the most beautiful look and it filled me with a glorious feeling." He indulged Reid, lost in his rant.

"But surely Clark Duenence didn't deserve to die like he did."

"Of course he did!" Kirks spat out in pure rage. "He wasn't even in town for 3 months and they made director of light and sound! That's my department! Mine! They were blinded to my acting but I was good with the technical things and they just handed it over to some snot nosed punk!"

"And Vana?" Reid asked quietly.

"Ah, Vana." The unsub sighed. "She was beautiful. She did everything with grace and she had an air of innocence. Never, have I've seen a woman so perfect for a Shakespeare play." His face darkened. "But she spurned me! Me! I sent her beautiful gifts, I sent her words of love and what does she do? Cast them away like dirt! I thought if I revealed myself, she'd repent but no! She tried to run! So I punished her the only way I knew fit."

"Jeez, if that's what you think a fit punishment is, it's no wonder you're single. No woman should have to suffer like Lavinia did."

"Shut up, you imbecile. As if you even know who Lavinia is. . ." Kirks trailed off, eyes widening in realization.

Reid grinned.

"Thanks for your time, thanks for the confession, but I have to go. Have fun in jail!" With a jaunty wave, Reid picked up the books and shot towards the door, ignoring the unsub's screams of rage.

Outside he met his team.

"So?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You just annoyed the unsub into confessing." Emily deadpanned.

"Hey! It's more effective than you think! My success rate in the Interrogation class at the Academy was 100%, thanks to this technique." He informed them, puffing out his chest in pride.

"So that's what Alex was talking about." Rossi muttered to himself, making a note to send the man a gift card as Morgan let out a laugh and slapped Reid on the back.

"How much did it hurt to butcher  _Romeo and Juliet_  like that?" Morgan teased and Reid winced.

"More than you know."

"I dunno, I think I liked your version better."

"Only because you hate to read." JJ tossed in and laughed when Morgan gave her an offended look.

"Reid." Hotch's voice caught his attention and Reid gulped when he saw the dark glare set on his form.

"Yes sir?" He squeaked out.

"When you're interviewing a suspect, you must remain professional." The man lectured before looking around for a moment and then patting Reid on the back. "Keep up the good work."

Reid smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anagrams
> 
> Carl J. Suiaues = Julius Caesar  
> Carol Redlia = Cordelia Lear  
> Clark Duenence = Duke Clarence  
> Vana Stuitti = Lavinia Titus  
> Reese Lealpha-Kirks = Shakespeare Killer  
> Julia Telctupe = Juliet Capulet  
> Tom Morenauge = Romeo Montague  
> Pierce Derns- Spencer Reid


	13. Extras: Just a Few Missing Scenes

**Scene 1- Spencer's True Inspiration to Keep Going the Distance**

The ground crunched under his sneakers, his breath came out in short bursts of air as sweat slowly trickled down his face. Yet he continued running and would do so until the sun began to set. The song he was listening to was one he had listened to a million times in the last few days. He had never heard it until he ended up staying at Garcia's. In truth, he preferred classical but Beethoven and Mozart had never inspired him to run, so he made due with what he had.

The song hadn't been a bad one when it first rang through his ears but listening to it loop over and over again on the ipod he had smuggled in made him want to smash the tiny device on the ground and make new, satisfying music by using his feet to crunch the song into oblivion. At the same time though, it was the type of song that you couldn't help but sing along too.

As the chorus blasted into his ear, he resisted the urge to belt out the lyrics but couldn't stop himself from mumbling them under his panting breath as he continued to run, ignoring the burning in his legs and lungs.

Across the field, Oxley sat down next to the coach, who had been there since class had been dismissed.

"Has he been here since class ended?" Alex asked off-handedly as he watched the gangly boy half jog, half run around the track.

"Hasn't left yet." Phil Garsly grunted, never taking his eyes off the young man.

"This is what, the fourth time?"

"We've been in session for four days and he's been out here every day after class to practice, so yes."

"And what do you think of him so far?" Oxley asked almost cautiously. Garsly was a former marine and it showed in both his attitude and physical stature.

"He's got passion but he hasn't built up the  _endurance_. What he wants to accomplish can't be done with the shape his body is in right now." The muscled man gave a snort of amusement. "Personally, I'm waiting for him to collapse."

"What, you couldn't take him aside and give him the rundown of the basics?" Oxley asked wryly, knowing exactly how Garsly liked to handle things. "The boy's a genius; grasping how to stretch and do warms up is not beyond his reach."

"Experience is the best teacher. The only thing that's keeping him going now is his motivation and whatever's on that damn ipod." The other grunted.

"Ipods aren't allowed here." Oxley said, somewhat dumbfounded as his eyes tracked the white wires leading up to Reid's ears.

"I know." Garsly gritted out. "I confiscated that thing three times and it always ends up back in his possession before class ends."

The Director stared at him for a moment before a snicker broke loose from his mouth.

"You-"

"Don't say it." Garsly growled dangerously.

"A retired Marine with several badges of honor and courage-"

"I'm warning you, Alex. There will be hell to pay if you finish that sentence."

"- were pick-pocketed by a new cadet, not once, but three times?" Alex let out a gruff laugh.

"The boy's sneaky." The coach defended himself and silently waited for Oxley to calm down. Retribution would come in its own time. "Right now I'm waiting for him to collapse. A visit to Wanda will put his head on straight after she's done with him." He ended, talking about the Academy Nurse that cadets learned very quickly to avoid if they could. The woman could guilt trip a man like no other.

Ten minutes passed by with Oxley snorting into his hand every now and then, ignoring the animal like growls of warning from his friend. Finally-  _finally_ \- Garsly was able to get up off the bench as Reid collapsed onto the track's asphalt.

"About time." He snarled but became concerned when he saw the young man wasn't moving. The two men hurried toward him and upon closer inspection realized he had passed out. After a moment of calling his name, pouring some water gently onto his face and lightly patting his cheek, Garsly heaved a sigh of relief as brown eyes opened up. Delirious and confused though they were, he was awake.

"Alright son, that's enough for one day. I think you'll be spending tonight and tomorrow with our lovely nurse." Garsly commented, easily slinging one of Reid's thin arms over his broad shoulders to help support the young man.

". . .must be swift as a coursing river. . ." Reid mumbled out.

"What was that?"

"With all the force of a great. . .typhoon.. ."

"Cadet Reid, are you singing?" Garsly asked incredulously.

". . .all the strength of a raging fire, mysterious as the dark side of the mooooonnnnnn." Reid choked out and actually tried to start running again.

"Oh no. You've done enough today." Garsly commented, tightening his grip on the whip thin cadet.

"I'll make a man out of you!" Reid practically yelled as he tried to jerk out of the hold before his body decided it had enough and gave out on him, making him faint again.

"Dear God, he's been listening to this, this,  _Disney_  song on repeat." Oxley gasped out, catching up to the two after he had stopped to pick up the fallen ipod.

"There's motivation and then there's over motivation. Get rid of that thing." Garsly snapped as he dragged the dead weight on his arm to the nurse.

The ipod was seen in Reid's possession six days later despite being locked in a drawer in the Director's office. Nobody said anything as Reid took his time warming up, muttering under his breath about a 'Garcia' forcing him into watching a 'Disney Marathon.' They also pretended to not to hear a high alto singing parts of 'Zero to Hero' and 'I Can Go the Distance' as the young man jogged.

**Scene 2- That Mailbox was Always There**

"Is everyone in position?" Clara radioed over her walkie-talkie, keeping her voice hushed in the night air.

"This is Team Ronald McDonald. We're in position." A voice crackled over the static a moment later.

"Team Nixon, you guys ready?" Clara asked, worried when a response wasn't given to her first call. A few minutes passed before static filled the air and voice floated out of the machine.

"Team Nixon here. Sorry about the delay, they have a dog. A wiener dog, of all things. Jane's giving it a belly rub. And yes, we are in position."

"Excellent. You guys have ten minutes before we rev up the truck. Be back before then." She ordered, slipping her own mask over her face.

"Copy that."

"Roger."

Clara couldn't be more proud of her girls when the four showed up 8 minutes later and climbed into the back of the truck with her. Silently promising to buy them a round later on, she rapped her knuckles on the back window.

The truck roared to life, sounding like a hungry beast as its headlights flickered on. The engine revving and the sound of screeching tires caused lights to turn on in many houses in the high scale neighborhood.

As the truck zoomed down the street, Clara stood in the bed of it, picked up her trusty metal baseball bat and smacked one particular mailbox clear off its post. At the sound- which almost resembled a gunshot- a young couple opened their door to see what was going on, only for the husband to step on a bag of dog droppings that had been lit on fire and for the wife to look on in horror at the eggs splattered on the side of her house and the toilet paper skewered across their trees.

But the vandals weren't done yet. The driver actually had the nerve to back up and Clara hopped down to scoop up the dented mailbox.

Neighbors watched from their own doorsteps as a woman wearing a Jason mask gave the couple the one fingered salute and a group with Richard Nixon and Rondal McDonald masks followed in suit. The driver rolled down his window- he wore a batman mask- and gave the stunned victims a jaunty wave before speeding off into the night.

They hit four more houses that night.

The next morning, Clara gave a shark-like smile as Jack and Alexa Sayous came to file a police report.

"Alright, just fill out this form and when you're finished," She pulled out a beat up mailbox from under her desk and slammed it on the counter. "You can just put it in here."

"That's our mail box!" Alexa exclaimed, eye's widening at the words 'How's it feel to be bullied?' among other, more vulgar phrases written across the once smooth metal.

"Yeah." Clara replied sweetly. "It was dropped off this morning."

"Hey, this form is already filled out and it's a form saying we're guilty of harassment!" Jack yelled angrily. "Is this some sick joke? Neither me nor my wife have ever harassed anyone!"

"Oh? Stripping a boy naked and tying him to a goal post and taking pictures isn't harassment?" Clara asked back, and felt a jolt of satisfaction shoot through her at their panicked expressions.

"W-what? We never. . ." Alexa stuttered off with a gulp.

"Hmm. That's not what Harper and Greg Peyton said." The secretary replied innocently. "Their house was hit too, along with two others. Must be karma, yeah?"

"That was back in high school. No one cares about that." Jack replied angrily. "What matters now is our property was vandalized."

"Tormenting and scarring a boy for life means nothing but property that can be replaced is top priority?" A passing secretary asked; her voice tinted in disgust. "Glad I didn't attend school with you."

"It's none of your business, bitch!" Jack snapped back and instantly regretted it as the whole office went silent and Clara stood up.

"One, you're disturbing the peace and will be fined if you don't knock it off. Two, I'm sure Spencer Reid would like to have a few words with you if he wasn't off being more successful than you two will ever be. Three, that is my secretary you're threatening and if you do it again, I will bash this mailbox against your thick skull. And four," she leaned over the counter and hissed at them, "I've left men three times your size whimpering in hospitals and if you don't leave right now, I'll personally demonstrate on you _why_  they were whimpering. No, the report will not be filed due to personal prejudice against your person. Yes, you have the right to file a complaint against us at another police department. No, we don't care- just like you didn't care when you tortured a kid for laughs. Now get out."

The two heard the safety lock on a gun go off and hightailed it out of there, not caring how frightened they looked. As soon as they left, the officers went back to their work as if it was an ordinary day.

"You better watch yourself, Clara. You're not being subtle and the Chief won't be happy if we get calls from other stations about this." Jones called out to her as he walked closer.

"Says the man who just undid the safety on his gun." She snorted back and all the girls giggled at the blush that took over his face as he muttered, 'It wasn't me' under his breath and walked away.

"Can someone explain to me why two civilians just ran out of here like they saw the devil?" Marco's exasperated voice rang throughout the room. Marco had just come back from a coffee pick up and having two people almost spill piping hot coffee on him in their haste to leave was not a fun experience.

"No!" Everyone yelled out trying to look innocent as he set the coffee on the counter.

"Of course you can't." He groaned and caught Clara scrambling to hide the mail box. "Clara. . ." He called out, warning clear in his voice.

"Yes?" She asked, voice professional.

"Why are there four busted mailboxes under your desk?" He asked and others in the room shot each other looks, each questioning how the Chief knew the exact number without even looking.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir. Those have always been there. I collect them. You know that." She chided with a confused frown.

"Of course. Well, next time you 'collect' another one, at least rent a truck instead of making Watson your personal chauffer. I don't care how much he enjoys wearing the batman mask." He ordered, ignoring his old partner's fake coughs to cover his laughter. "I'll be in my office. Don't threaten anyone else. We're meant to protect the people." He muttered.

"Actually, police officers protect. I'm an innocent secretary with a passion for punishing bullies." She replied under her breath as she sent out an e-mail to Garcia to let her know the job had been done.

It burned her to know there were some bullies out of her reach but Garcia assured her that financial ruin had a poetic justice of its own. Also, hacking into Facebook accounts to spread some juicy revelations across the internet would be more than enough.

She would be looking forward to show and was just waiting for Garcia to send her the goods. After all, she had already bought the popcorn.

**Scene 3- I Know What I'm Going to Be for Halloween**

"I can't believe you talked me into this." Reid moaned as he walked down the deserted hallway of the BAU, Garcia prancing joyfully at his side.

"Sweetie, you look perfect. I couldn't imagine you being anyone else." Garcia chirped happily.

"Really? You couldn't imagine me being anyone else for Halloween except for a man with a superiority complex, narcissistic tendencies, and an urge for destruction. Not one other character came to mind before him?" He asked dryly.

The BAU was having a Halloween office party and agents were allowed to dress up if they wanted. Once Garcia got wind of this she decided their team's costumes should be characters from the Avengers movie.

Which is how Reid got stuck walking in dark leather with hints of green and gold, and a giant helmet with horns on it with a scepter gripped in his hand; a pained expression painted on his face showing his displeasure for the costume.

"Ok Reid, for the last time, I picked Loki for you because you're both tall and thin for one. You have high cheek bones, you both like scarves, books, and magic. You like to annoy people, he likes to annoy people; it's a perfect fit!" She gave him a lecherous grin. "Also, you're both smoking hot, meow!"

"Never do that again." He deadpanned, more used to her actions than he should have been. "Also, Loki doesn't annoy people, he tries to kill them. Why couldn't I be Phil Coulson? I liked him."

"Because Phil dies, bless his soul. Also his costume design is bleh. All you'd have to do is wear a suit, and that, munchkin, is too easy. I worked really hard on these costumes to get them as close to the movie ones as I could."

Admittedly, Garcia really did work hard on all the costumes she made, going on a cosplay rampage Reid hadn't seen since his Dungeon and Dragon days. Her details on the clothes were amazing but it left him questioning a few things.

"In that case, why are you dressed as Thor?" He asked curiously.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm the Tech. Goddess, he's the God of Thunder, and we're both forces of nature. He's blond, I'm blonde. He loves Loki, I love Loki. Admit it, I'm Thor reincarnated." She giggled.

"Somehow, I think his love for his brother is far different from yours." Reid gave her a nervous smile when she looked at him with an evil smile.

"Say 'kneel', Reid. I liked that line in the movie." She whispered flirtatiously.

"No!" He scrambled forward to hide the red blush that crossed his face at her words. Why did she have to make everything so dirty?

"Say it! I made the costume, you owe me!" She urged, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

"No!" Reid yelled again as he made a mad dash to the office, Garcia right behind him, her hammer raised in her hand.

"The Mighty Thor commands you, brother!" She shrieked and tackled him, right as he opened the door, making him fall on the floor with her on top of him.

"Damn Garcia, maybe you should join us on cases if that's how you tackle." Morgan laughed, dressed up in dark leather with an eye patch covering one eye.

"Sorry Director Fury, I only tackle people I like. I call them Thor Hugs." Garcia winked as she clambered off of Reid and made a move to hug Morgan.

"Whoa, Baby Girl. Remember I'm not a god like you two." Morgan laughed as she hugged the stuffing out of him. "Besides, we should help him up before someone steps on him. Looks like the Hulk beat the crap out of you, Reid."

"Shut up, Morgan. I hope you run into a wall." Reid groaned, taking the offered hand to help him up. Together, the three joined the rest of the team.

"Lookin' good, Reid." Emily called out, her Black Widow costume showing off her curves in all the right places. JJ nodded in agreement, dressed as Hawkeye because, as Garcia put it, she was good at darts and that was close enough. Beside her stood Will, dressed up as Robin Hood with Henry dressed up as a little Legolas by his feet.

"Ah! My little godson is adorable!" Garcia squealed the moment she saw him, sweeping him up in a storm of kisses and hugs, causing the little boy to giggle. Reid gave them a shy wave. He had met Will and Henry a few times and the boy didn't seem to mind him but Reid didn't want to push his luck. He chatted with Emily and Morgan for a few moments before spotting the punch bowl and realizing how thirsty he was. After asking if the wanted any, he excused himself to go pour a cup for himself. After taking a sip, his face scrunched up at the taste.

"If Morgan spiked this, I'll never forgive him." He mumbled to himself.

"Trust me Reid, if anyone spikes that bowl, it's gonna be me. This suit is hotter than a sauna." Rossi's griped, in a full Iron Man suit, mask and all.

"Oh. I thought mine was bad." Reid chuckled softly as he watched Rossi try to walk in the heavy suit.

"According to Garcia, because I'm rich and because I like Iron Man, I was the perfect candidate." The older man grunted, opening up the mask to take a drink.

"I take it Hotch is Captain America?" Reid questioned and had it answered for him as Hotch walked in, patriotically decked out with a certain shield on one side and a green little monster on the other. "Jack's the Hulk?" Reid laughed, as he watch Jack stomp around and try to be intimidating.

"Garcia wanted it to be Strauss but Hotch talked her out of that suicide move. Jack loves superheroes so it worked out." Rossi told him, discreetly pouring some Vodka in the bowl.

"Rossi!" Reid whispered when he noticed. "You shouldn't- what if Jack or Henry-" The older man raised an eyebrow at his stuttering coworker.

"I told Hotch and JJ ahead of time not to let the kids have any. They brought juice boxes for them. Besides, Iron Man likes to drink and so do I." The other justified, chugging his drink down in one gulp.

Reid held back the urge to lecture Rossi on the dangers of alcohol consumption and tried to enjoy the night.

And surprisingly, he had more fun than he thought he would.

The night was spent watching Emily, Garcia and Morgan get slightly tipsy, Jack hero worshiping them all and ambushing Reid when he thought the other couldn't see. Hotch actually smiled and JJ somehow convinced him to let the group use his shield as a Frisbee. If a few things were broken as a result, they were quickly cleaned up and forgotten about.

Stumbling home that night, looking for all the world like a drunk Norse god, Reid knew he had made the right choice in coming to Virginia.

**Scene 4- The Gift Card**

The envelope looked innocent enough, but Oxley had been in the game long enough to know even the most plain looking things could be the deadliest. It was a small envelope with his name written neatly in the middle. It was too thin to hold an explosive but that anthrax trick had been used more than once and he wasn't about to take any chances. Carefully feeling the enveloped with his letter opener, he felt something solid inside and decided, after becoming annoyed with himself for his paranoia, to just open it.

Besides, Marianna would never let anything pass her desk if it was dangerous and she was far more paranoid than he was.

Opening it up quickly, Oxley turned it upside down and watched as a plastic card and single sheet of paper fall onto his desk.

Turning the card over, he discovered it was a gift card to a high scale liquor store that he loved but could only afford to shop at on special occasions. His eyebrows rose up in surprise when he saw it had $250 written on it and turned to the note. There was no name but he immediately knew who it was after reading the short sentence.

' _Thank you for not sending him to Interrogations.'_

"Are you trying to make me an alcoholic, Rossi?" Oxley muttered under his breath, tucking the gift card into his wallet. There was a smile on his face when he said it though.

He never told his friend, but he did end up fighting with the higher ups about where Reid should be assigned. They wanted him working in some mumbo jumbo science division that dealt with weapons and if not there, then some other obscure division he wasn't familiar with. They were quite adamant about it and it was only after yelling himself hoarse and telling them the boy was made for the BAU that they finally relented, reluctant though they were. It was still a compromise though because if they were not satisfied with Reid's work during his probation period then he would be reassigned. Oxley never told the young agent this because he knew it would cause unneeded stress. A year had passed and he hadn't heard of any reassignments, so Reid must have impressed somebody.

Besides, the other units weren't hurting for agents; it's not like the Interrogation Unit needed another heavy hitter. Miss Ortega seemed to be cracking confessions out of suspects left and right.

As for Oldenson, well, the Code Breakers had already sent him more thank you notes and gifts than he could ever remember receiving, so he's assuming the young man was making jaws drop in that quiet way of his. Oxley smiled as he thought about the young agents; he'd definitely had a good group that year and the it was starting to show.

Let them shine like the shooting stars they were.

**Scene 5- He Blinded Me with Stupidity**

Elisa Ortega loved her job. There was nothing quite like waking up in the morning knowing that in a few hours, some criminal would be sobbing out confessions they swore they would never say. Of course there are guidelines and rules that one must follow. After all, as much as Elisa would like to punch the living daylights out of every suspect, as much as she would like to use some ‘questionable’ techniques to make them talk, she’s a woman of honor and she follows the rules to the letter.

Today though, today dishonorable means were looking rather nice.

The suspect she and a few other agents were watching from behind a two-way mirror was a pasty skinned man that looked more like a rat than a human. He was in the interrogation room alone, nervously shaking his leg and twiddling his fingers.

By his behavior he should have been an easy nut to crack but no. Nothing her or her co-workers did worked.

“I can’t believe this guy is being so difficult.” One of them commented, exasperated. Elisa couldn’t blame them; they’d had been at this for hours.

Another agent gave a grunt of agreement as he cracked his neck and then his knuckles. Elisa gritted her teeth at the sound. It was a pet peeve of hers, knuckle cracking. It annoyed her so much; it made her want to scream-

The thought made her blink.

Against her will, she thought back to a certain class at a certain school where a _certain someone_ caused unending terror for a full hour until the teacher released them early.

She looked at the suspect again. Did he really deserve to have _that_ happen to him?

Then she remembered that not only had the suspect spat on her while calling her a racial slur, he was also the reason she was missing her favorite TV show.

She laughed a little, gaining her co-workers attention and both shuddered at the look on her face.

“I think,” She told them with a blood thirsty grin. “I think I know who can get this guy to talk.”

Spencer Reid loved his job. That being said, he also loved it when he got days off, though they were few and far in between. Today was one of those miracle days where he didn’t have to go in and he relished in the feeling.

Then his cellphone started ringing.

“Reid.” He answered, not even looking at who called. He was used to it being someone from his team, so he blinked at the voice that came through the speaker.

“ _Hey Reid. It’s Elisa_.”

“Hi.” He greeted a little awkwardly, wondering why she was calling him. He kept in touch with her and John but they never called each other.

“ _Listen, I have a favor to ask of you,_ ” She started out and he heard the anger in her voice. “ _We have a guy in here now-_ ”

“Here as in the Interrogation Unit.” He interrupted her for clarification.

“ _No, in my basement where I have a secret fight club! Yes the Interrogation Unit_!” She snapped at him.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, wincing at her tone.

“ _Anyway, as I was saying, we have a guy in right now who’s not talking. We’ve tried everything within legal means. So now I’m resorting to slightly not-so-legal-means and asking if you’d lend a hand.”_

“Uh, Elisa, not that I don’t want to help but I don’t think I have clearance to help.” He told her nervously. “I could get into a lot of trouble if I stick my nose into a case I’m not assigned to.”

“ _I figured you’d say something like that,”_ She snorted. “ _I’ve already talked to my boss and you’re in the clear if you want to help out._ ” She assured him and he let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t mind helping out.” He told her with a smile. A smile that turned a shade mischievous. “Wow, I never thought the day would come that-”

“ _Shut up!”_ She barked through the phone, already knowing his train of thought.

“-the Great Elisa Ortega, Queen of Interrogations would be asking me for a favor.” He ended somewhat smugly.

“ _I can still whoop your ass in hand-to-hand combat so I don’t think you should be gloating_.” She growled and he did his best to stop chuckling.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” Was the last thing he told her before hanging up. Sighing, he looked mournfully at his books before going to get ready. As he was putting on some pants that he rarely wore, his face lit up in another impish grin.

Elisa may have known about his technique but she had never seen it out in full force.

* * *

 

Nat Marty was undeniably nervous. His nightly routine had been going as it usually did: scuttle around the streets watching for potentials, talking on the phone to keep the right people happy, checking in on the brothels and check points and so on. It had been a good night right up until he decided to buy some heroin off a new dealer that everyone was raving about.

Two days later, here he was in a cold room waiting for someone to come in and speak with him. _Again._

He had been arrested for drug related purposes but somehow the FBI had his name on a list and he was transported from the police station to a much more secure place. He knew immediately what they were going to question him about; what he didn’t know was how they got his name. Nat glared at the table. Someone had squealed and if he got out of here, he was going to find them and wring their neck.

It was probably that Johnny guy that disappeared a few weeks back. Never trust a guy named Johnny, they can never keep their mouths shut.

But Nat could and he would because no matter how frightening some of the agents that had talked to him had been- especially that Latino chick, she was the stuff from nightmares- nothing was more terrifying than what his bosses would do to him if he talked.

After what felt like days with only the ticking of the clock and his own breathing for company, the door finally opened again. Nat looked up, expecting another guy in a suit only to find himself staring, stupefied.

Because the person that walked in looked like they should have been at a photoshoot, not in an interrogation room.

The young man was tall and had a nice pale complexion. His smooth skin contrasted nicely with the olive green shirt that had a few of the top buttons undone, allowing the world to catch small glimpses of his collar bone. He wore a deep purple scarf that molded well to his upper frame and tempted the viewer to gaze lower. His long legs were being hugged by glorious dark denim jeans that seemed painted on. Some brown leather boots matched the color of his chocolate tousled hair. His face was a masterpiece in and of itself with two brown eyes, long dark lashes and pale pink lips that were stretched into a smile.

If only Nat had met this man on the street. The bosses would have loved this guy.

“Hi!” The man chirped cheerfully as he sat down across from Nat. “I’m Spencer Reid. It’s a pleasure to meet you. . .?” He trailed off and gave Nat a questioning look.

“Nat.” Was all he said, knowing the feds already had his name.

“Awe, that’s a cute name. I’m going to call you Natty.” Spencer declared boldly as he opened up a file in front of him. “Let’s see here, they gave me this information about you so we could have something to break the ice. Isn’t it nice when people are considerate?” Spence asked him with a sunny smile.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” Nat stuttered out, bewildered at the turn of events. This guy didn’t sound or look like an interrogator. What was going on here? Was this a prank?

“So it says here you’ve had your hand in human trafficking.” Spencer hummed as he read the file and Nat felt his blood run cold. He knew he had been on the law’s radar but he didn’t know for sure they had connected him to that until now.

Damn Johnny.

“So tell me, are you the reason I’m always getting stuck at red lights?” Spencer asked him, looking very serious.

“. . . what?” Nat asked, confused. That was not the question he was expecting- it didn’t even make any sense.

“Are you the reason I’m always getting stuck at red lights?” Spencer repeated, expression never changing.

“No? I don’t understand your question.” Nat told him and Spencer let out a little huff of air.

“Don’t try to deny it, mister! It has to be you!”

“What? I don’t have the power to change the traffic lights!”

“A likely story! We all know you’re a human trafficker, who else would it be?!” Spencer asked dramatically, slamming his hands on the table.

“What does being a human trafficker have to do with this?” Nat asked desperately.

“Everyone knows human traffickers are the people hiding inside poles and changing the lights, duh.” Spencer told him.

“What?” Nat heard himself ask after a moment of silence.

“Human traffickers are-”

“No. Stop. You think there are people in the traffic poles?” Nat asked the other incredulously.

“Well yeah. How else are the lights going to change color if someone doesn’t turn the switch?”

“That’s stupid. No one can fit inside those poles, you dumbass!” Nat snapped at him in an irritated voice.

“Oh yeah? Then how else would they know people wanted to cross the street when the button gets pushed, huh?” The other questioned.

“It’s a machine! It has a sensor, that’s how.” Nat tried to explain but Spencer wouldn’t listen.

“Oh Natty, that’s the silliest thing I’ve heard all day. Machines with sensors.” Spencer ended in a little laugh. “It’s human traffickers- everyone knows. You don’t have to hide what you are.”

“I don’t hide in traffic poles!” Nat screamed, losing his composure. The amount of stupidity this guy had was astounding. “I find lonely people and force them into the underground sex industry! That’s what a human trafficker does! That’s what I do!” He yelled.

“Oh? So you don’t live in a traffic pole?” Spencer asked, sounding disappointed.

“For the last time, I have nothing to do the traffic lights!”

“But then, how does your job work?” Spencer questioned him and Nat was too riled up to realize the grave error he was about to make.

“It’s simple; I watch out for potential candidates on the streets. When I find someone, I send of picture of them to my bosses. If they like ‘em, I follow ‘em, drug ‘em and send ‘em to one of the bosses brothels.”

“How silly, we don’t have brothels here- they’re illegal.” Spencer tittered and Nat was surprised the man knew what a brothel was.

“Shows what you know.” Nat said smugly, lording his intelligence over the beautiful man. “There’s five in this area alone, right under the feds nose.”

“I don’t believe you.” Spencer sang out.

“Why not?”

“I told you, they’re illegal. The police would have shut them down if they saw them.”

“Wait,” Nat furrowed his brow. “Do you think they’d just be out in the open for anyone to see and walk in to?”

“Uh, yeah? How else are people supposed to know about them if they don’t have their name somewhere?”

“You idiot!” Nat snapped. “Brothels are secret places that you have to find.”

The other perked up in his chair.

“Like a treasure hunt?!” Spencer asked with sparkles in his eyes.

“I-yeah sure, like a treasure hunt.” Nat told him tiredly.

“I wanna go! Can you take me?” Nat took in the man again. He was a beauty but he was dumber than a headless chicken. Still, he’d make a lovely prostitute and the regulars would break him of his chattering.

“Sure but in return, you’ll have to work at one. I’ll even let you pick.” He told the other slyly.

“Ok!” Spencer chirped. “Where are they?”

“There’s one on 17th street that looks like a laundromat. It’s called Soapy’s, you’ve probably seen it. There’s another on Lincoln that’s disguised as a Chinese joint called Lee’s Take Out and two blocks down is one called Jessica’s Boutique. On Washington the brothel is a place called Darla’s Photography and on Broadway, the last one is pet supply shop called Pugs ‘N Kittens.”

“Hmm but I’ve been to Soapy’s and Lee’s and I’ve never seen a brothel at either one. I think you’re lying to me, Natty. You _do_ live in a traffic light pole; you’re just trying to confuse me!” Spencer accused him and Nat smacked his head against the table.

“No, I’m not! The brothels are in the basements or backrooms, stupid! If they were out front, they wouldn’t be secret places!” Nat yelled, trying to keep frustrated tears at bay.

“. . .in the basements?” Spencer asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Ew. Basements are gross!” Spencer stuck out his tongue. “They’re moldy and they smell strange. I don’t wanna work in a basement, no thanks!” Spencer said as he stood up and began walking toward the door.

“But you promised! C’mon, it’s way better than whatever your current job is!” Nat yelled out desperately. He felt hope spring in his chest as Spencer stopped inches from the door. Turning around, the young man gave Nat a funny look.

“Being forced into prostitution is in no way better than my current job.” He told Nat softly and the man frowned at the complete change of demeanor.

“Well, what do you do?” He asked, feeling like he was missing something obvious but incredibly important.

Spencer smiled at him and it held a tinge of evil.

“I profile criminals. On the side I moonlight as an interrogator.” Spencer told him, brown eyes sparking with laughter as he left.

As the door clicked shut, the puzzle in Nat’s head fell into place.

He’s forgotten he was in an interrogation room; he had forgotten he was being questioned. Spencer had infuriated and confused Nat with his stupidity to the point that Nat had forgotten where he was! He had been duped!

He slammed his head against the table again, hoping to knock himself out.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Elisa looked at Spencer in disbelief.

“I thought your technique couldn’t get any worse and then you came in here dressed like that.” She said, shaking her head, still not quite believing what she had just witnessed. “If I didn’t know that guy was involved in human trafficking, I’d feel bad for him.” She ended, glancing through the mirror at the suspect who was repeatedly smacking his head against the table.

“Well, it wasn’t like I could wear anything but the Academy uniform so I never had the chance to show you the technique in full.” Reid admitted, handing the file back to her before following her gaze. “I can’t believe he told me all that. You made it sound like he’d be a hard one to get talking.”

“He was.” She glared at him. “He was until you showed up. I wonder why you weren’t assigned to this Unit. Your technique is flawless.” Elisa admitted somewhat grudgingly.

“Apparently the agent that taught the interrogation course told the higher ups I would be too powerful and break the other agents here.” Spencer told her with a careless shrug. “Um, are they ok?” He asked her when he noticed two agents staring at him.

Looking at her co-workers, both who were giving Reid blank looks of disbelief, Elisa sighed. “They’re fine. But yeah, maybe having you here would be hazardous to our mental health. Stay in the BAU.”

“Gladly.” He told her with a smile.

 

**Alternate Scene**

It was like something out of The Twilight Zone.

The morning had started out like it usually did: the morning officers cheerfully greeted the night shift officers who were going home. The secretaries all giggled and gossiped by the coffee machine and Chief Marco grumpily walked to his office as he did every morning when he wasn't caffeinated enough to be around others.

Then, everything stopped.

"Hi guys." Reid greeted happily, coffee cup in hand as he went to his desk.

"Reid?" Clara asked uncertainly, taking in the man in front of her.

"Yes?" He asked innocently, completely unaware that everyone was looking at him.

"Is everything alright?" She asked.

"I can't answer that. I don't know everything. Therefore, I cannot tell you if it is alright. Also, our definitions of 'alright' may differ due to our personal experiences. Unless we're going by Webster?" He responded, completely serious in his khaki slacks and sweater vest. Absentmindedly, he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

"Of course, how silly of me." Clara forced a laugh. "Can you at least tell me about your clothes?"

"What do you want to know?" He asked in confusion. "I got them at the Salvation Army for a good price. They were made in China and are 98% cotton. The other 2% isn't specified on the tag."

"It's just not your usual style." Another secretary tried weakly.

"I have style?" He asked excitedly.

"That's it." Clara muttered, pulling out her phone. "I'm calling an ambulance. He's clearly suffered a mental break of some sort." Before she could punch in the number, a snide voice called out.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?" Jones asked in disgust, walking up to Reid. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Working?" Reid asked with a raised eyebrow. Jones felt something snap inside and saw red.

"You little punk! I'll kill you!" He growled as two officers quickly grabbed him before he could strangle the other.

"Y-you know, there are a lot of anger management courses you could try." Reid stuttered out in fear.

"I JUST came back from one of those! No thanks to you!" Jones screamed in rage, redoubling his efforts to get his hands on that thin neck.

"Hey back off!" Clara snapped. "That was your own damn fault and you know it!"

"Shut up! Why are you always protecting him? He's mocking us!" He snarled at her. She opened her mouth to snap back a retort but the slamming of a door startled them all into silence.

"What. Is. All. This. Racket. About?" Marco grounded out between his teeth as he took in the scene before him.

Jones being restrained by two officers like some rabid dog, Clara clearly looking for baseball bat or some equally blunt object to hit him with, and a scared Reid dressed like a nerd.

Marco blinked and turned back to go to his office.

"Marco?" Watson called out in concern.

"Clearly, I'm having delusions due to lack of caffeine." The Chief muttered. "It's too damn early for this nonsense. I'll deal with this when I'm more awake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anagrams  
> Nat Marty= Ratty Man

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been on ff.net, there's a chance you know this story.


End file.
